Zevran's Journal
by Miranda le Ginger
Summary: The first page of Zevran's journal entry. Contains LelianaXF! Cousland. And a whole lot of bosoms.
1. Chapter 1

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Author's note: This is just a silly little journal entry of Zevran's where he discusses various topics (mostly regarding bosoms) Mentions of LelianaXF! Cousland. It is marked as complete, but if people like it and request more, I would be more than happy to continue. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the masterpiece that is Dragon Age, or even the bosom-loving Zevran. Bioware, and now EA as well, do. I do however own a love of bosoms (mainly my own) and enjoy taking out my favorite vid. game characters out for a slightly dirty romp.

Despite my initial loathing to write in a diar-no, not a diary. A _journal_. Men write in leather-bound journals, not diaries. Those are for women. Anywho, Wynne has told suggested that we all keep a detailed account of our journey in a book, you know, in case the archdemon incinerates us, or crushes us, or- well, you get the picture. As you can imagine, this did not go over very well. Sten of course said no, then went off to his tent to polish his sword the Warden had found him (not the bumbling male one who skirts my charming advances; the hot red-headed one who…also spurns my advances…). I personally think he is going to eat some more of his cookies. For such an intimidating creature, he is rather fond of cookies. (I sincerely hope he never catches wind of this. Otherwise, Antiva will be seeing me far sooner than anticipated.)

Ah yes, back to the journal. Well, the busty bard and her delicious, mouth-watering lover of a Warden (again, the attractive female one) were down with the idea. I myself really wish I could see what they write. I bet it is a passionate writing of all the steamy couplings they do. Detailed pictures of them entangled together in their now shared tent, sweet-nothings captured across the pages like star-crossed lovers reuniting again after ages apart, stains from their excursions littering the pages… Okay, perhaps I am getting too much enjoyment from my musings. Can you blame me? Our Sappho inclined golden couple are quite the pair. Even prudish Alistair gets red in the face when faced by their blazingly-hot chemistry. Sigh…if only the female lovers in Antiva were so arousing…speaking of arousing, Morrigan also was not keen on this journal keeping. Unsurprisingly, she turned up her nose and told Wynne in her oh so sexy voice that she would not be writing such a piece of nonsense. She of course refused to think of her possibly imminent death (and what a sad thought that be! It is surely a crime to kill a specimen so fine as herself!) This over course led to another of the mages infamous squabbles, which of course I loved because it gave me a chance to sit and muse over Wynne's surprisingly glorious bosom.

Ah, now _there_ is a topic worth recording! One cannot leave enough detailed records of the softness that is a woman. In my travels, I have learned much about a woman's bosom. Some are firm and proud, jutting out proudly like a soldier before marching off to battle. Others are weighty, hanging down like a stalagmite before it impales upon an unlucky wanderer. However, I would not say no. Bosoms are bosoms; there is no ugly one. I have…ah, observed my fellow feminine companions, classifying them for, shall we say, research. Wynne, despite her age, has nice, firm ones. I call them her "I put a spell on you" bosoms. (All older mages have them…or the stalagmite ones. There are no in-betweens). I have continually persuaded her to let me rest my head on them, as pillows you know. When a man might die any day, who would blame him one of life's comforts? Needless to say, she did not jump upon the Zevran wagon. Ah well, maybe someday.

Then there is Morrigan. Hers are slightly smaller, and yet still very appealing. I have denoted them the "Dark Arts," for her bosom is a work of art and yet she is slightly malicious and scary. Ah, cantankerous evil never looked so good! Then there is Shale. who has no bosom, as of yet. You know, because she is a Golem. However, in order to not single her out because of her unfortunate disorder, I have named her hidden chest, the "Rocky Start." I can only imagine how they had looked back when she was in dwarven form. Maybe someday I can test my theory.

Leliana is the next. Oh, sweet, sweet Leliana! What beauty she does possess, in such a ferocious package! I always knew there was more to her than meets the eye! No Chantry Sister looks like that and stays pure. Unfortunately, due to her preference towards the Cousland girl…Reyn, her name was…she is immune to my advances. Hey, I did offer my services to the both of them. Add a little flavor to the mix, no? Anyway, despite my heartache at her rejection, I have still mustered up my manhood and gave her bosoms a moniker. Tough stuff, that. "The Works," sounds as good as any. Took me awhile to decide on a suitable name for bosoms as fine as our dear bards, and "Breasts of Life" did not sound very good. I am in danger if they find out as it is; Reyn may possibly kill me if she sees that.

Finally, there is my dear Warden. Hers are not quite as noticeable as Leliana's, but still generous and pillowy. Hers are the "Pillows of Generosity," for her pillows are generous and I wish our "Chantry Sister" would share. Honestly, I have been quite good since I joined. I have not couple with anyone in months. That, my dear readers, is the worst of tortures. Oops, I have to run. Reyn has formulated a plan for us in aiding the Dalish elves. Werewolves and creepies, you know. Hmm, this is kind of relaxing, yes? Mayhaps I will continue this journal, or possibly just leave this as being the sole remnant of Zevran. Talk of bosoms is certainly not a bad way to leave a legacy, yes? Well, goodbye my friends. Hopefully I will leave another day. Who knows, maybe I will be a hero and bosoms will be ever present in my life? Hmm…an elf can dream.

Farewell,

Zevran (the most attractive elf of Antiva)

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	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Since Apollo Wings and Raven Sinead really wanted this to continue, I have made this previous one-shot into a five part story. Thank you to all who read this, whether you review or not. Just knowing it gets read is satisfaction enough. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Zevran, his insatiable appetite for bosoms and orneriness, and Dragon Age are **not **the productsof my imagination. I do not own them, but I do love playing with everyone's favorite pervert.

Well, I am surprisingly not dead. Hmm, or maybe it is not so surprising. Not to be cocky or anything, but I am rather good with my tool….and my dagger as well. I am rather shocked with our survival, truly. You see, our group ventured out early this morning, so we would not be caught unawares come nightfall. Normally, I would say that travel by night would be better. Night is the best cloak you can have. But, as these are rather…unusual…circumstances, everyone elected to venture into the Brecilian Forest in broad daylight.

Now, as you are probably wondering, this was a very painstaking job. Normally, our group is tactless; we charge, we fight, we win. End of story, and end of enemies. But we were not up against your average clueless bandit giant man-eating bear. We, under Zatharian's orders, were facing werewolves. Werewolves…they are not so common. Actually, they are incredibly rare. In Antiva, fishmongers would tell tales about this beast, scaring the little whelps and waifs around and making older folk laugh. I myself once heard a rather brutal story about werewolves, in one of the many brothels in my homeland. So, I was not entirely keen to go hunting my possible death. After all, Ferelden would be a cold, hard place if Zevran was gone. The poor women…

Ahem, anyway, we armed ourselves wisely and headed off into the infamous forest. Almost as soon as we entered the dark place, Darkspawn ran out at us. Reyn motioned us into positions quickly and led our force to theirs. We clashed for a brief time; afterwards, our fallen foes stained the earth with their foul bodies and dark blood. We headed further in, encountering more of the accursed creatures and some spiders as well. They were rather easy to kill, but I will admit to feelings of amusement when Leliana gave the spiders a wide berth, sticking to our fearless leader's side. Turns out, our feisty bard is afraid of spiders. Of all the horrors we have seen, and probably see more of, she picks _spiders_ to fear? I will try to quench my laughter, but it is harder than I thought.

We finally carved a path of retribution through the forest, settling towards just outside of the center. There were twists and turns every which a way, giving us trouble. We picked the right path, and a mysterious gray-ish fog rose up, blocking the rest of the path from view. Whispers sounded on the edge of my consciousness, seemingly coming from the ominous cloud. Of course, being the intelligent elf that I am, wished to survive longer and die in a death befitting myself. That does not include death by creepy, whispering fog. My companions agreed, and we doubled back. Now, our group…we attract evil things. Probably because of Morrigan. We are walking along, looking for a way to the center of the forest, when a tree pops up.

Now, I know I partake in spirits. Usually, it is alcohol that has a kick. But, even drunk and sleeping with random fellows (not exactly new; I do that sober too) I have never envisioned an actual tree attacking. Well, though it gave up a good fight, we made bark out of it. After fighting more of these giant twigs, called Sylvans I am told, we ended up reaching a copse in the trees. The clearing had a small little hut- like structure sticking out of the ground, and a gnarled tree stump a little bit in front of it. I thought I could see something shiny glistening in the light inside it; naturally, my curiosity made me want to find out what it was. Just as I had stuck my hand in the stump (not as pleasant as it sounds) a hermit came forward, warning me away. Now, I know I travel with some interesting companions (a noblewomen/warrior, Grey Warden, Chantry Sister turned bard, a giant slobbering hound and a malicious though horizontally pleasing witch) this man was quite crazy in comparison. He kept asking answers to questions and questions to answers, so we quickly made our retreat.

We finally found a different area, and made our way over to another clearing. In the center stood a huge oak tree, unlike any other tree thus seen in the forest. Its golden leaves were quite pleasing to the eye, and we went out towards it. We fought more Sylvans along the way. Well, to our great surprise and near heart failure, the tree could talk. In rhymes. It wove a tale of sorrow at the loss of its seed (trees still have these?) …oh, acorn. My mistake. He told us that the crazy hermit had taken it, and informed us that if we brought his acorn back, he would gift us with one of his branches, giving us clear passage to the werewolves' lair. Oh, joy. We get to see the insane stump dweller again. So, like the errand boys we have apparently turned into, we went back to Crazytown. We ended up trading a scarf for the acorn (I sincerely hope the husband of the dead-elf-turned-canine is not too put out) and ran back to the poet-tree. He sung his gratitude, and gave us the branch. Our ticket to our destination in hand, we went back to the strange fog mentioned earlier.

Steeling myself in case I walked on the other side missing a limb or other precious body part, I along with my companions entered the rolling waves. Like the tree had said, we were able to walk right through. Swiftrunner, a werewolf we had become quite acquainted with (he threatened us, sent wolves to kill us. Nice doggy) He talked some more, gave more warnings…the usual. We did not listen, killed some more wolfies and entered the doors to the lair. Boy, did those werewolves need a lesson in hygiene. Dust and gore was everywhere. Oh, and some old picked on bones. A dead-elf child spirit also came into our path. We stayed clear of him. We fought through wave after wave of disgruntled werewolves, mowing them down. We pushed on, traveling deep into the underbelly of the lair. Finally, the Gatekeeper came out with an offering of peace. If we stopped making kabobs out of his friends, he would take us to Witherfang. I was somewhat skeptical, mostly because of putting my dagger between many wolves' shoulder blades, of following behind him and his fuzzy posse.

Ever the peacemaker, Reyn agreed and we followed the small contingent. We stepped through a large door, entering a fairly large room with vines poking out of the ground everywhere and hanging on the decrepit old structure. The wolves gathered in the room snarled and growled at us, shouting obscenities laced with gooey slobber. In the center stood Swiftrunner, several unknown wolves, and a beautiful green woman. Despite her somewhat sinister appearance, I was utterly transfixed by her bosom. I had never partaken in green ones before, but I never back down from a challenge. I made a mental note of them (I finally came up with the name, "Fine Vines"), and continued eyeing away. I heard snatches of the conversation while my ogle fest was commencing. Apparently, our favorite Dalish loon Zatharian had placed the curse on the wolves because of his children's tragic death at the hands of humans. Enraged, he invoked a spirit to do his dirty work and curse a new and entirely blameless generation for the wrongdoing. The spirit pleaded with us to try to change Zatharian's mind, or she would disappear and the elves would surely succumb to the disease and die.

So we fetched the Dalish leader from the entrance and questioned him. Turns out, spirit bosom…I mean, lady, was speaking truth. The spirit and Zatharian traded words, growing harsher and harsher. Turns out spirit babe is also Witherfang. Of course it did not deter me; everyone has a wild side. Reyn used her coercion skills and managed to convince Zatharian to break the curse. Bad part, he died. That's going to be fun to tell the Dalish…The spirit of the forest vanished as well. I did not even get to first base! Ah, the things I go through for my companions…

The werewolves, no slightly less hairy humans, thanked us and ran off. We left the Elven Ruins and made it back to the Dalish in one piece. Danyla, now Keeper, agreed to ally herself with us in the fight as Loghain. Hmmm, she was quite good-looking herself. While the rest of my group rest and listened to congratulations, I made my move upon the lucky Keeper. However, before I got to the part in my speech about how ravishing she was and how the moon and the stars compared to her divine beauty, she shot me down like an arrow to the knee. All these women…turning me down. Is it a Ferelden thing, or have I lost my touch? …nah, she must be sapphically inclined like Leliana and our red-headed Warden. Maybe she would be willing to join them? Oh the delicious thoughts my mind conjures! Well, that is all to recount for now. We head for Arl Eamon next. Reports of his illness will hasten us forward at dawn. But for now, my tent and my images call to me.

Farwell,

The Possessor of Nine-Lives, Zevran


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thank you guys so, so much for the reviews! I really enjoy taking Zevran out for a spin. He is definitely interesting.

**Special shout-outs** to two of my reviewers: **Apollo Wings** and **Morninglight**. I asked them if they wanted a special scene included in my story and they both gave me their answers. Both scenes appear in this chapter: Morninglight wanted our favorite naughty elf to comment on the guys' butts, a little spin of the bosom diagram from chapter 1. Apollo Wing, noticing Wynne was already equipped before the Circle of Magi mission, asked me to have Wynne join the party at Lothering. Thanks to you both and I hope you like the scenes!

Disclaimer: I do **not **own Dragon Age, Zevran, or any bosoms that may appear**. **Bioware has that right. However, I can certainly take them out to play!

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…women are truly terrifying creatures. Our assorted group of misfits is currently en route to Redcliffe Castle, where we will seek aid from Arl Eamon so that the tide of battle might go in our favor. Probably not; after hearing about Ostagar, I am not so confident about our chances. But, should I die, at least it will be in the glory of battle. Though my glory will probably be desecrated by Darkspawn…I am far too pretty to be eaten. Anyway, I was on the subject of women. And their cruelty. You are probably wondering why such a debonair, charming elf like me would ever say such things about the greatest creation in the world. Well, let me sum it up for you in one word: Morrigan. There, you see? Now you get it.

I guess it was kind of my own fault. But, she started it! As we were trekking across the plains of Ferelden, sweat running down own tired, overworked bodies, I of course started telling stories. You know, to pass the time. I was regaling my companions with the story of Orsa, one of the Antivan handmaidens I had "shown the path of light" to. I was just getting to the best part, the one with her chanting a lot and praising the maker (I am all about the religion!) when Morrigan decides to interrupt my story. Humph. And after I was so kind to tell them this; it could have taught them some pointers. I am sure the bard knows, but the rest? Alistair, the blushing, bumbling virgin who stutters at the mere mention of coupling? Reyn has Leliana to learn from, of course, but I have a civic duty to teach the others! I politely told our trusty mage this, and she told me it was not some hidden secret; everyone apparently knows how to do it. (She then mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like 'Alistair' and 'wouldn't know where to stick it if it hit him in the….oooh, such language) Well, being the gentleman that I am, I had to grant her a reply. She…was not as appreciative as I thought. All I said was that if she learned my techniques, she could see the light and maybe not be such a frigid bi- Well, seeing that on paper makes it sound much worse. Ah well, her spells all missed her target…thankfully. I can live to fight another day.

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Well, we finally reached the outskirts of Redcliffe Castle, arriving at a small little place called Redcliffe Village. Wow, these nobles originality leaves a lot to be desired….

We headed towards the Chantry, hoping we could find the leader of this bunch. We passed what looked like villagers trying to be soldiers (very, very poorly. You do NOT hold your dagger in that position, unless you don't want your pinky) We entered the place of religion and spotted an official looking guy clad in what looked to be royal clothes. Reyn started up a conversation with him, and we learned some valuable things:

The man was Bann Teagan, the Arl's brother.

The Arl has, indeed, fallen mysteriously ill with no known cure

The Urn of Sacred Ashes is the only hope to possibly save him, if it can be located

The undead keeping attacking at night from the castle and the village will not last another night without aid

I have seen many things (not everybody looks as good as I do naked); heard even more. (said unappealing naked people sound even worse), but all this business of an urn holding the dead remains of some Andraste woman (wait, is this the one they speak of when they say, 'Andraste's tits'? Hmm, I had thought I would find this mystical bosom I have heard so about. Dust of a _former_ delectable chest does not so sound so good anymore) and a legion of undead soldiers who used to be knights but now some creepy malificarum has brought them back to plague their former charges? I feel as if I am in some fictional world in the fade. Except there is not naked women or bosoms. Not nearly as dream worthy.

Reyn, being the good and slightly less fond of her life woman she is, agreed to help Bann Teagan out with their little problem and then go to the sick Arl. Since our fearless leader promised her help, I of course would now have to face these undead. And I thought the werewolves had a bad odor…..After speaking with Teagan, we sought the council of the resident mayor…townsleader…what ever he is called. Murdock, as he was called, told us of various quests we could accomplish before the battle later in the night. These quests consisted of persuading an annoying little dwarf to help aid the village (you would think he would be more easily persuaded; all the dead would have to do to thwart his attacks is put a hand on his forward and push). We also had to promise a completely wasted blacksmith into making decent weapons for the villagers by saving his daughter. Easy enough, right? Ha-ha, you would be wrong, my dear readers. She was somewhere in the castle, since she is the personal servant of the Arl's wife. I'll be she serves her all right. Even the lady's name sounds seductive. Isolde. Yep, she is totally having an affair with the servant. Hmm, maybe if we are able to save them both, I will be a hero in their eyes. Being grateful, they will invite me into their bed chambers and… suddenly, fighting the undead and finding this girl sounds pretty great.

After finding a little boy for this woman in the church and gathering oil from the abandoned general store, we headed back to Murdock. He called in the Redcliffe knights that had made it back, led by Ser Perth, and we made final preparations for the upcoming slaughter. Well, everyone else did. I was altogether preoccupied. By what, you wonder? Well, I was thinking about my previous list. You know, the ones with the characteristics of bosoms and how they pertain to the women companions in my lovely group? Well, I had realized something that devastated me: I had neglected to rate the men! Now, I am aware that men, unless horribly obese, do not have breasts. For which I am very thankful. Nor do I rank them by…other sizes. That would be weird. No, I rate them by their behinds.

Now, take Alistair. Yes, he may be simple, slightly uncoordinated, and cannot take an innuendo to save his life. But in spite of this, he has a really great tush. Nice, firm, just like his chest. If all Templars-in-(ex)training looked like him, I would quit my unofficial job of an assassin and join up. After careful consideration, I thought "Spicy Buns" fit him nicely.

Sten…we will not really go into him. He is an off-limits zone. He is like a an Antivan whore; description sounds great a first, then you see then for the first time and figure out the prize is not worth the effort. Morrigan would also be a fairly good analogy. His is the "No Pwn Zone."

Ser Perth (because I find him irresistible for some reason) is the "Knight-Stick," because….maybe I should not go into details. Kids might read this.

Bann Teagan has the "Back-door Bann" behind. It looks awfully nice, but I doubt you could ever en-….oops. Sorry, kids.

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Anyway, while I was busy with my butt-a-gram, my faithful associates readied for the battle. After the makeshift meeting, we readied for the fight outside of the Chantry doors. We stood for what seemed like hours, just standing and looking faintly awkward in our armor. Except me, of course. Then a harsh wailing sound came from the direction of the castle. Then, as if today was not weird enough, a mystical fog not unlike the one in the Brecilian Forest slithered out, heading towards us. We waited for the ominous cloud to get closer, lifting our weapons in the universal "You are about to be mincemeat" stance. Suddenly, the undead where upon us. They ran down the rolling hills; a solid mountain of dead, rotting flesh. Weapons clashed as we met the undead, chopping and slicing away at their corporal forms. Two ambled towards me, making horrible sounds that faintly made me want to rid myself of lunch. No, wait. That was the stench. I quickly sidestepped then and used my trusty daggers to slice long furrows into their necks, killing them..again. I looked around at my fellow battlers; Reyn was whacking several with Starfang….Leliana was stabbing one with her dagger…Morrigan was blasting two with her fireballs….remind me to never piss her off again. At least where she cannot hear it.

The battle raged for hours, and we were getting tired. But, just when it seemed like we might get overrun and be zombie food, the fog retreated. We picked off the last undead that were standing, and sent them back to their (former) sleep. Everyone cheered, for we lived another day. Everybody congratulated us for our help in turning the tide. Afterwards, Bann Teagan led us to the windmill atop the cliff overlooking the small village and Castle Redcliffe. He started telling us of Eamon's illness, letting slip a previously unknown secret of Alistair's: He was apparently the bastard son of King Maric. Reyn did not look surprised, but the rest of us sure were. The Warden, a possible candidate for kingship? Suddenly, his "Spicy Buns" were looking even more tempting….

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Before Teagan could continue with his story, several guards and an attractive Orlesian woman ran up. Apparently, she was the famed Lady Isolde (yes, totally banging her woman servant). She wove a tale of dark and evil proportions. A malificarum had been hired to tutor her young son, Connor, in the art of magic. Yep, the Arl's son is a mage. Bet that's a nice party-opener. 'How is your son? Oh, he is training to be a knight. What about yours, Eamon? Ahh, he is learning magic. Gonna fry some bandits and make his old man proud.' Hmm, yes. Quite a lovely conversation. Well, instead, he had poisoned her husband. Nice tutor. Where'd you get him, Antivan Crows? Anyway, she requested the Bann to accompany her to the castle in order to appease whoever it was that was keeping her and her son prisoner and the Arl alive. We all knew there was something more that she was not telling us, but the Bann gave his word he would go with her. But, before he did, he told of a secret passage accessible in the windmill that would lead into the castle. He told us to forget about his safety; just enter the castle quietly, kill some deadies, and open up the courtyard gates so Perth and his soldiers could go through. (I really need help…these innuendos are just flowing through me…)

So, in through the hatch we went. Killed some dead (nor really dead) knights and ran into Jowan. You know, the malificarum who had tutored Isolde's son but ended up poisoning Eamon? Yep, the very one. He gave us a sob story about how Loghain persuaded him, and he did not mean for this to happen…could we give him a chance, please….Tragic, indeed. For once, Alistair, Morrigan and I were all in agreement: leave the apprentice poison maker to his cell. But, Reyn and Leliana felt compassion towards the guy and let him loose, making him promise to help in any way he could; atonement, they said. Atonement, hmm? Maybe he will thank us by giving us chastises laced with Spawn-Be-Gone. Well, he ran off saying he would show back up when the undead knights were eradicated. So we went on through the eerie castle, killing things like we normally do. We are pros by now. We finally got to the courtyard and had to contend with, guess what, **more** zombies and some skeleton archers. After we cleaned the yard with them, we let Ser Perth in.

Using the key we had found in one of the many chests we looted in the castle (hey, free stuff! We are doing there dirty work for them; priceless artifacts are fair game) and went into the main hall. We found Isolde standing inside with a young boy beside her. Connor, I surmised. Except, instead of being a normal boy, the kid talked in a voice that spoke of darkness. Oh, possession. How…fun. The boy was making Teagan dance, quite amusing actually, until Reyn started talking to him. The boy was adamant that we stay away from his father, and after a few choice words, he scrambled off to Eamon's study. Maybe he will trip and fall down the stairs. There, problem solved. Isolde finally comes clean on the true problem: her sweet little boy was being controlled by a demon. Oh goody. The day just keeps getting better. Jowan the blood user finally made an appearance, and we had to practically restrain Isolde from assaulting him. He insisted he pay his debt and save Connor.

We had two choices: Kill the demon and, in essence, kill Connor. Or, we could use Jowan. Reyn refused Jowan, worrying about the blood magic involved. The choice looked to be clear. The boy would have to die. But, before any actions could be made, my dear sweet Wynne spoke up. Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully, she said that she could enter the Fade and kill the demon, saving the young mage from an early death. But, she would need some help from her friends at the Circle Tower. She had not seen them since the battle at Ostagar; we had picked up the woman at Lothering alongside Leliana and the Qunari. She was eager to see what had become of her friends, and it would allow us to secure the allies needed from the Circle. More allies, lives saved…it was the best plan we could come up with. So, we left the castle behind and headed towards our next destination: The Circle Of Magi. Well my friends, I shall take my leave. It is Alistair's turn at the cooking helm, and although it leaves a lot to be desired, his bent over position gives me a delectable view of his backside. Oh, Ali? What would I like for supper tonight? Hmmm, I am thinking of _buns_…

Farewell,

The ever-charming Zevran

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Zev, and Dragon Age, are **not** my property. If it was, DA 3: Inquisition would already be out and Leliana would most definitely play a major role. I do so love my bard.

Well, we finally made it to the tower, holding the famed Circle of Magi. I admit I was excited; perhaps other mages would have bosoms as magnificent as my dear Wynne's? It had taken a little while to get there, on account of bandit and Darkspawn attacks. Cousland had gotten injured during one such attack, and it took an entire day of rest for her to fully heal. Oh course, our dear bard stayed with her throughout her ordeal, and even gave the Warden a little…token of appreciation. Ah, such a lucky woman, Reyn is. Sure, her parents were killed, probably massacred horribly, and she lost everyone and everything that held meaning for her prior to this…but she ended up with a fine beauty as compensation, did she not? And what a lovely sight that was… I could see their silhouette's moving against the background of their tent, which was surprisingly see through because of the moonlight shining down. What? I was not spying; I was on watch at that moment. And I just so happened to look in that direction…watching for danger, yeah? And once I had seen them, I had to keep watching. It was all for their protection. I was doing my civic duty to my fellow comrades. I deserve a medal.

After Reyn's quick recovery in the hands of dear Leliana, we continued forward to our destination. We carved a path of destruction on the way there; the bandits were either devoid of news of our traveling group, or just very stupid. Probably the latter. We finally arrived at Lake Calenhad shortly afterwards. Ah, what a beautiful sight! The moon, she glistened off of the serene blue waters, highlighting our faces in the glowing splendor. Reyn and Leliana's beauty shown clearly in the moonlight, and Wynne's silver hair gained an attractive sheen. A cougar, if I ever saw one. Shale…. well, she just looked like a giant piece of rock that walks. And Team Zevran's favorite witch, Morrigan, just looked like she normally did: sexy and bitchy. Though the light did enhance the evil light that always radiates from her eyes. I envy the man that tames that. Or attempts to; she would probably curse him or freeze off his unmentionables.

When we arrived, we noticed a small inn off to the left. A man stood off to the side of it; he was named Kester. He told us that he used to be the one who rowed passengers off to the tower. It was the only way a person could get to the tower; leagues of achingly cold water, remember? Unfortunately, old Kester was out of a job. The knight-commander of the tower, named Greagoir, had taken the oars from him and denied passage to anybody across the lake. When questioned, Kester denied knowing the reason behind the odd request. Reyn, being shrewd, asked if something was amiss at the tower. The now unemployed man had no clue. We left when it seemed we would get no further answers of benefit. It was a mutual agreement that we would go into the little inn of to the side, the Spoiled Princess, and see if any other information could be gathered. The inn only contained a couple of patrons, all of whom scowled at us in a completely unfriendly way. Except for one of the shadier ones; he smiled quite lecherously in my direction. Normally I would be flattered, but considering the lack of teeth that showed when he smiled and the unkempt look about him, I hurriedly averted my eyes. Can't waist precious time with a dalliance that would probably scar me for life…and potentially make me contract some disease. Then again, I could always ask Morrigan to-the Darkspawn must've injured me after all. I was actually thinking the witch would help somebody. Everyone knows the chances of that happening are like Reyn turning straight of Shale actively not squishing anyone. Well, we interrogated the innkeeper; a surly, bitter husk of a man who was absolutely no help in less you consider a bleak and decidedly unimportant family history lesson relevant to, I don't know…saving Ferelden from a gigantic dragon and its macabre army intent on massacring everyone into the Fade… We departed the inn and made a beeline to the solitary docks. A young templar stood on the wooden walkway, trying (and failing) to look intimidating and important. The Warden asked for passage and the man shot her down, saying that the knight-commander had given strict orders to deny any passage across the water unless it was important. Apparently, the self-righteous sword-flailer did not think of Grey Warden business as important.

Reyn was getting quite fed up with the templar, and her usual politeness was on the cusp between continuing diplomacy…or beating him senseless with her sword. While she struggled, Morrigan sauntered up to the templar, using her womanly wiles to garner his attention. Seeing all that skin on display obviously did the charm. He acquiesced to her asking of passage, but when he boldly suggested what she might do afterwards with his "broadsword," she proceeded to show him what all of my companions and I have learned: Morrigan is quite terrifying. He could not leave fast enough once we were ferried across. Hmmm, it was quite amusing, and Reyn could not keep the amusement out of her eyes, or mouth. I even saw something resembling a smile linger on Morrigan's face…nah, witches don't smile; they only cackle.

Upon entering the famous tower, we quickly spotted a man who looked like he was in charge. Greagoir, like all templars, was clad in heavy plate armor bedecked in the symbols of the Maker. His strong face was weathered with exhaustion, and dark circles made rings underneath his eyes. It was obvious that something indeed dire had befallen there. Reyn and Spicy Buns conversed with the templar-in-charge while the rest of us listened intently. He wove a horrifying tale; abominations and demons ran rampant through the halls of the circle. The sheer numbers of the things was unsettling, and the man did not believe there would be any mages who survived. He had sent word to Denerim, in order to get the Right of Annulment. When Wynne heard this, her eyes grew panicked and her breath whooshed out of her wizened mouth. She protested this action, wanting to at least see for herself that all was lost. The older mage could not in good faith let the death sentence commence without looking for potential survivors. She pleaded with Greagoir and Reyn added her words to the mix. The man showed them compassion and even though he thought we were heading into a suicide mission and thought us quite daft, he said he would grant us entry into the depths of the tower. He warned us that once we set foot into the tower, the doors would remain closed until the First Enchanter, Irving, stood before him. Otherwise, the Annulment would commence.

Because of the severity and high danger of the mission, the Warden elected to choose three other companions to aid her in this quest. Of course Wynne and Leliana were chosen, and I was picked as the last party member. Alistair wished to go as well, but Reyn reminded him that if she were to fall in battle with the monstrosities, he had no choice but to continue the mission. It was bad enough that she was being whisked away by such darkness, and Ferelden could not afford to lose the only other Warden currently residing there. So he reluctantly agreed to stay with the remaining templar forces in the main entrance, along with the rest of our group. We grabbed some last minute supplies from the admittedly attractive quartermaster and assumed the position at the door. One of the templars opened it for us, and we walked through. The sound of the heavy doors closing behind us sounded ominously against the stiff silence that surrounded us. Bodies littered the floor, black and red blood mingling together to form a horrific palette of colors on the floors. We went through one of the doorways located on the right side. The entire place was ravaged; pillows were split open, chests hurriedly left unlocked in a desperate display only to be left hanging open and full. Leliana found notes written by some of the apprentices. Most of them told of the bleak future that seemed to be in store for the magic users. Every room looked like the first; broken and siphoned through, leaving only the bare foundation. We neared another new door, but this one had a glowing blue field protecting it. There were several mages inside the room, with children huddled behind them, shivering in their abject terror. The mages all aimed their attention onto us and would have probably blasted us into a new century or turned us into nugs had Wynne not caught their attention. They immediately simmered down once the older woman came into view. They relayed the sad story to us all, talking about the betrayal being behind the madness of Uldred, a senior mage who dabbled in blood magic and started the tragic events that had befallen the tower. Kinnon, one of the apprentices in the room, gave his condolences to Reyn. She accepted his sympathy graciously, with only the tightening around her blue eyes any indication of her true feelings.

Wynne convinced the inhabitants to lower the shield, letting us through. We promised that we would kill anything beastly we saw and find any survivors. The shield went down and we ventured into the unknown, not fully ready for the horrors we would face. Soon after we had passed the shield, we came upon a library filled with our first batch of ghouls. The ghastly things ran at us, inhuman noises bursting through the misshapen bodies. We dispatched them with ease, and traveled throughout the once magnificent library, cleaning up along the way. After leaving the carnage in our wake, we entered the second floor of the hellish world we found ourselves in. We met a Tranquil, who gave us a little information but refused to leave for safety. Reyn reluctantly backed down, vowing that she would make it to where anything remotely evil would have no way to get through and harm him.

An endless array of battles ensued, our skills put to the test. Daggers slashed into putrid flesh, shields being covered in gore. The bodies of previous would-be heroes and victims were joined in their final resting places by their former colleagues-turned- monsters. We brought death and swift retribution, finally making it to a huge chamber. The chamber was absolutely covered in large, fleshy masses. The gooey tendrils resembled the abominations we encountered, and they pulsed with life from where they rested. In the center, a body lay dressed in the robes of a mage. Above the prone form stood the most horror-inducing thing I had ever before seen…and I have seen Morrigan and a countless slew of unappealing naked bodies. The thing was like a giant abomination, but something about it seemed off. It held a darker, more sinister presence than the other creatures. The fact that it started talking to us, enticing us to sleep was kind of a dead giveaway. Unfortunately, despite our Herculean efforts, all of us succumbed to an unbidden sleep. The last thing that ran through my mind before inky blackness took over was the saddening idea that my body could land in one of the pulsating flesh tendrils that had been seen frequently. And I had just polished this armor before, too….

The first thing I saw when I woke up was grass. And tents. A fire roiling in the center completed the scene. It was the campsite; our campsite. Except my companions were now where to be found. I was utterly alone with myself. I shakily stood up, brushing dirt off my leathers. I wrapped my hand around the end of my dagger, just in case of foul play. A movement to my right caught my eye; quick as a flash, I turned to meet the threat head-on. Instead of an enemy, however, my eyes landed on our leader and her bard. Reyn was standing tall and proud, her armor missing and a beautiful blue tunic gracing her body. The bard was likewise garbed, but in a soft cream-colored outfit. The weapons that were always so prominent were missing; the only weapons they possessed were the seductive and mischievous glints in their eyes. Cousland sauntered forward, her grin rivaling my own normal parody that was surprisingly absent. No words were spoken; she just let her fingers trail along my arm with unerring precision. I hastily grabbed her hand, surprised by the smoothness of her palms. I glanced at Leliana, but instead of a seething bard, I got a smoldering look thrown my way. She joined the Warden in their weird but not unwanted caressing, and despite my instincts screaming at me to watch out, my traitorous body let known my desire. I tried, I honestly did, but the two women called to my innermost needs, turning on my more basic instincts. I was helpless to refuse the hands that were presented to me, and I followed the two towards a large tent situated rather conveniently in the center of the campsite. Before I was swept away by my passion, I remember thanking the higher power of my good luck.

You can just imagine Reyn's face when see saw my…err, dream. She had successfully freed Wynne and Leliana, entering mine last. She was expecting something more along the lines of an old dalliance, or a memory of my time with the Crows. Seeing me in a compromising position with her doppelganger and one of the bard….was not quite what she had in mind. Of course, when she popped up in front of me, I did not see anything amiss. I just thought that Feastday had come early and the Maker was rewarding me for…something. The sight of another Warden did not deter me; another member in the tent was greatly welcomed. The shock, embarrassment and anger in her eyes also did not dissuade me…but her slap sure did. The girl certainly packed a punch…Needless to say, I woke up from my dream but disappeared before I could plead my case or get killed for my fantasy.

We all resurfaced in the middle of the dream world created by the Sloth demon. We all chipped in and fought the beast, whose shapeshifting powers gave us some grief. The battle was epic, and of course my dagger-wielding greatly aided us in the fight. We won and were transported back into the real world, but not before speaking one final time to Niall and learning of the Litany of Adralla's whereabouts on his body. With the tome safely in our grasp, we made our way further into the tower, getting closer to our final destination. We fought abominations, rage demons, and even a Desire demon who was intent on bewitching a hapless templar. Unfortunately, the only path we could see was one that led to the deaths of both the demon and the templar. Running through the last door before our final showdown with Uldred, we encountered another shield. Except instead of mage survivors, there was one lone templar. The man was obviously traumatized by the horrors he had seen, and he wanted retribution to befall upon the mages. Reasoning with him failed, and Cousland finally just told him that she would not have the Right of Annulment come into play. She would take on Uldred and his minions and save anymore survivors to be had. We walked up the steps, nearing our final barrier with Cullen's derisive shouts and warnings following us.

Uldred was not very impressive. Quite scholarly looking, with a frail looking body. The bald-headed mage tried to get us on his side, but we kept refusing. The Senior Enchanter, Irving, and a couple of survivors were restrained to the side. In his anger and frustration, Uldred transformed and sent his abominations at us in a killing frenzy. We gamely fought them off, occasionally activating the Litany in order to keep the remaining mages from transforming into mindless beasts. It was a long, arduous battle but good finally prevailed and we were victorious. Irving thanked us appreciatively, before following us back to Greagoir. When he saw the leader and the survivors, the commander let them all in and expressed his delight and disbelief. Cullen had been freed from his prison, demanding the mages be put to death. However, with our support, Greagoir dismissed those claims and agreed to help rebuild the tower. Irving agreed to accompany us along with his remaining people in order to cure young Connor. We left behind the carnage of the tower, hope budding within us of the future rebuilding of the proud institution.

As we speak, we are headed back towards Redcliffe, eager to send somebody in to help out the possessed boy and save Redcliffe from a bleak fate. I now take my leave my friends; Reyn has confided in the Chantry sister of my dream, and the daggers shot my way are far sharper than the tips of my blades. My manhood shall not remain intact for long without a hasty and wise retreat. Remember dear readers, if you are having a sex dream, never do it in a strange dream world induced by a demon who wishes to show you pleasant things in order to suck the life out of you. Your fantasies may see you, and will probably not be grateful for it. Take this to heart or you may find yourself unable to procreate. Cheers, my friends.

Adieu,

Zevran, the currently fleeing elf

Author's note: I know the dream sequence was completely different, but I was under the assumption that the Sloth demon places you in a dream you do not wish to leave. Having a steamy encounter with our two favorite ladies sounded like the perfect way to keep Zev happy, and Reyn's reaction was utterly fun to write. Also, I am planning on writing at least one other companion's thoughts in a journal. Reyn Cousland's is definitely going to be written. I am also interested in writing from Morrigan and Leliana's viewpoints. If you would want to see their journals, leave me some feedback on your thoughts. Any info will be taken to heart, and will most likely influence my decision.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: And I present to you, chapter 5 of _Zevran's Journal_! Only 3 chapters remain; Orzammar, the Landsmeet, and of course the final battle. As I have stated before, I will also be writing all of the other character's journals. However, the final battle chapters will be set up differently. Zevran's will be the day after. Everyone else will be at varying times. Some will be a couple of weeks after, others will be years later. There's a hint for ya! Thank you to all the wonderful reviews, and to the readers who brighten my day and freshen my writing! Ya'll rock.

Disclaimer: I do **not** own DA: O, or any of the characters. Bioware and EA have all the rights. I just love me some drama/angst/romance!

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I have never been of the religious sort. That is not to say that I do not believe in a higher power or the presence of the renowned Maker (please do not smite me). I just have never really needed to have faith; the only time an Antivan Crow hears praises to the Maker is when we successfully assassinate somebody and the dying victim knows they will soon pass on. It is far better, when dying, to believe in an afterlife worth heading to; an empty, fathomless black nothingness is not exactly comforting when one is pouring out their life essence. However, the images I saw today can only lead me to think that the Maker is indeed real and Leliana is not missing a couple of daggers in her upstairs armory. But, I suppose I should start from the beginning.

After our heroic triumph and the retaking of the Circle of Magi tower, we collected all the mages that could be spared during the critical reconstruction time and made a hasty exit towards Castle Redcliffe. Wynne had been pretty shaken up by the horrific sights we found at the tower. Even though I did not witness her dream sequence, I could tell it was pretty bad by the paleness of her face afterwards and the concerned glances Reyn kept throwing her way. The others had caught on to her behavior as well and were keeping a wide berth, averting their eyes and attention. I watched while Leliana put a comforting hand on Reyn's arm, whispering words in her ear. Our fearless leader had a tortured look on her face, conflicting emotions warring with each other. As a leader, she felt that she should check on the older woman who was obviously in pain. But, on the other hand, she was worried about making things worse. I could understand her hesitance; Irving and the other mages had all taken turns at cheering her up and all were inevitably shot down. Reyn felt like she did not stand a chance at reaching the older mage; if people she had known for years could not break through her walls, how could a mere acquaintance make any headway?

Now, by most people's standards (okay…everyone's), I was by no means a gentleman. Not a callous jerk but no white knight, I am more of an in-between. Girls willingly part their legs for me, but I am usually only good for a lay. Most of the girls, when everything was all said and done, collected their things and left soon after. Albeit, with a smile on their face and an ache between their thighs. I am just not like Alistair. But, even I felt sympathy towards Wynne. Of course, I could not just go and tell her that; reputation to uphold. But I could not just keep watching Reyn flounder for the answer while her bard consoled her, all while Wynne was about as active as a rock. Everyone had been on tiptoes, and things were already somber enough, what with all the blood magic at Redcliffe and the high chance that we were going to become either bacon…or dragon food. So I resolutely stood up from my perch by the fire and made my way over to Wynne. I saw Reyn and Leliana staring at my progress out of the corner of my eye. They both had varying looks on their faces, ranging from curiosity to horror to wonder.

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I stood in front of the mage. In a voice laden with exhaustion and shoulders sagging like the world was pressing down on her, she told me that she was fine and would like to be left to her own devices. I squatted down in front of her, trying until I could catch her eye. I told her that I had no idea what her dream in the fade was about, nor did I want to. That I was sorry for whatever weight she was carrying around that hurt her so. Tragedies happen every day, to innocent people without cause. Despite the pain it brings, we trudge on. It is our duty to ourselves and the deceased's memory to continue down the road of life, and try to live the way we know how. I was uncomfortable with the speech…comfort does not come easily to me. Assassins are good with daggers and deception; soothing a mage's heart is not in the job description. But, my words seemed to help. At the word duty, a fire lit back into her eyes and her years seemed to fall away. Her back straightened back to the poised state it had been in before the tower. She thanked me for what I said; that it helped ease the pain and put her back in perspective. Of course, I could not just say flowery words like that without adding the real Zevran flair to it. Once her smile peeked out, I could not resist adding that the best cure for what ailed her was to join me in my tent. A little workout would work wonders. She could sweat it out. Or I could just rest my head upon her bosom. From experience, it cheered up the countless ladies I had lain upon. A berating followed my words, complete with a lecture, eye roll and huff. I looked the perfectly chastised pupil…trying hard to contain my laughter and lecherous remarks.

A smile still threatened to show on Wynne's face, nevertheless. Reyn and Leliana look relieved as well; matching grins marked their happiness at our resident mage's recovery to good spirits. The trip afterwards went smoothly, just like they used to: Reyn and Leliana kissed and made eyes at each other; protecting the other at the sight of danger, Wynne lecturing me on my bosom comments, Alistair being a blushing virgin and looking delicious in his chainmail, and Morrigan being an infuriating witch who I would still gladly accompany to any tent and/or body of water. Our mismatched group finally made it to the bereaved castle; Bann Teagan and the knights greeted us anxiously. Jowan and Isolde were unsurprisingly in the main hall, Isolde pacing around with dark circles under her eyes and a pale Jowan under the scrutiny (and sharp pointed sword) of three knights. They and the remaining knights looked up when we all entered. Isolde let out a hopeful exclamation at the sight of the Circle mages. As one we discussed our plan of action. To properly save the boy from the demon possessing him, save his father and spare his mother, a mage would have to enter the fade and confront the demon. The other mages would pull forth their power using copious amounts of lyrium; the chosen one would be under for as long as the power lasted. It was a dangerous gamble; there was no guarantee the boy or the rescuer would survive. The lyrium was brought forward while we deliberated on who would go. Jowan was out of the question: despite his words of remorse and pleads of repentance, he was still not trustworthy enough to risk lives on. Irving was a viable option, but with the Circle so decimated he was needed alive to help rebuild. Really, the two best options were Morrigan, and Wynne.

Morrigan, an option? I felt sorry for the boy if she was picked. As callous as she had been about the idea of saving him, I did not have high hopes on how useful she would be. She would probably kill the demon and the boy, for good measure. Though I did not like the enormous risk we were taking, even I could not swallow the death of a boy that could have been spared. Thankfully, Wynne ended the discussion. She, in no uncertain terms, said she would venture forth and confront the demon. Our fighter elected, Wynne took her place in the middle of the mages' circle. The lyrium was tapped into, and white magic swirled around the chanting group. Wynne was shrouded in the light; her eyes closed in intense concentration. Then, her body fell forwards. I stepped forward to catch her, but Alistair kept me back. He shook his head, jaw tight. Having the handsome knight's hand on my shoulder was certainly a good enough distraction. Visions of sword fighting danced in my head. I had plenty of time to entertain my not so innocent thoughts; Wynne would be out for almost two solid hours.

After two hours (and 20 different positions flashing through my head), Wynne's unconscious body moved. She shot up, her mouth taking in gulpfuls of air. She quickly gained composure. The demon had been hard to locate; she kept moving around. Apparently, the desire demon was not very desirable to fight against. But, Wynne had done it. Isolde ran up the stairs, tears freely falling down her face. We followed her to Eamon's study, where a joyous Isolde was embracing her son who had just regained his conscience. They were both grateful; Connor was taken by the older mage who saved his life. However, the reunion did not last long. Connor was safe, and Eamon was not in immediate danger of dying but he was still unconscious. The best plan that could be made was to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes. The Ashes, said to hold the remains of the prophet Andraste, was rumored to exist. Nobody knew of its location, but we did have a lead from one of the knights we came upon in Lothering, before it was overrun by Darkspawn. A Brother Genetivi was the only lead; apparently, the man had been looking for the famed Urn and was our best chance at saving the Arl. So after a night of recuperation at the castle (and the hospitality of a beautiful elf servant) we left the castle far behind. The mages left also, parting ways with us on the road and heading back to the circle, but not before agreeing to ally themselves with us against the blight. Irving also said he would persuade Greagoir to join his templar forces with us. Morrigan, shockingly, was not pleased with the idea. An apostate mage battling alongside the very people who wanted to control her? Perish the thought.

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The information gathered told of the brother living in a house in Denerim. Reyn was slightly concerned; Denerim was basically the headquarters for Loghain and Howe. Fort Drakon is not a place you want to end up at. The Warden was worried about the reception we might get; especially since our group was not exactly small. So she formulated a plan that just might save our behinds from the frying pan; she, Alistair, Leliana and myself would actually enter Denerim and locate Genetivi's home. The Wardens would make themselves look inconspicuous by donning different armor and accessories and wear cloaks to conceal their identity. Leliana was unknown to the man and would prove useful, and I had never formally met Loghain. He had met with my superiors and so did not know my identity. Plus, my skills as an assassin and keen sense of when I am being lied to would be handy when going to the mystery man's house; he might not be so docile as his title suggests. Everyone else would wait just on the outskirts of the city for our arrival. With our plan firmly in mind, we set off to do our parts.

We were granted safe passage into the city, and with only a minimum amount of trouble were able to find the designated home. The home was quite comely, and looked to be a safe haven. It gave me a bad feeling. Reyn took a breath and walked up the steps to the door, knocking firmly. After a beat, a man opened the door. He was young and fairly good-looking; he called himself Wylon. He was the good brother's assistant. Unfortunately, according to him, the man was out. I watched his face intently. His eyes were tight around the corners, and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. The man was lying; he was not Wylon. I called him on it; he tried to recover but he knew his blunder had cost him. When we approached the door to the basement that he was so determined to remain hidden, he lunged forward at us in desperation. He was almost able to knick Alistair with his blade when a well-timed thrust from Reyn brought him down. We opened the door to the basement; a body was wrapped up in a white cloth and hidden. The decomposing corpse was none other than the real Wylon. Reyn's face was thunderous; she replaced the cloth and marched over to the other room. It was obviously the brother's study; he had given directions to where he was heading. And guess where his destination took him? The Spoiled Princess by Lake Calenhad.

We regrouped outside of Denerim and filled in the rest of the events that transpired. Then we headed off back to the inn. After some more traveling and journeying (it is a good thing I am in shape; it is impossible to be fat with all the walking we do), we stood in front of the sullen inn's doors. We walked in; the same patrons were there. Reyn interrogated the innkeeper, who eventually fessed up that some men were lying in wait for us outside; we had walked into a trap. He said there were about four or five of the blighters. Alistair and Reyn shared a look; one of those silent Warden gazes. They both drew their blades; Leliana and I drew forth our daggers at the movement. We stood by the door; Cousland counted off on her fingers. We burst outside, meeting the would-be trappers head-on. It did not take long to take them all out. We found some papers on one that looked to be the leader. They were apparently cultists, from a place called Haven. That was the destination that Genetivi had headed to, and where we would follow.

Haven is not as fantastic as the name suggests. Really, it should be called Rains-a-lot or Gloom-and-Doom. The place was as joyous as Morrigan is. She would fit in well there. The guard at the entrance was surly and basically told us we could trade at the little General Store in the area and then ship off. Needless to say, we did not listen. The few townsfolk we met were all strange and slightly creepy. And then the fun started. In one of the houses we went into, a scene of unimaginable horror faced us. We had walked into what looked to be a sacrificial chamber. Blood covered the walls, great bucketfuls of it just covering the place. I have a hard stomach, but even I was feeling the pressure. Leliana lost her previous meal; Reyn gently comforted her while she retched. Our leader's face was one of despair and utter disgust. Thinly veiled rage burst from her eyes, and I knew the people responsible for this would pay dearly for their "faith." Bodies lay in the far corner, wearing armor reminiscent of the knights of Redcliffe. The knights that had gone looking for the Urn had met a tragic fate. We watched as Reyn moved forward as if in a trance, stopping before the bodies. She removed her blade from its sheath; the blue starmetal shimmered strongly, like it was cleansing the area of evil. She brought the blade up to her forehead, saluting the fallen knights and sheathed the weapon. Her head stayed bowed for a moment before she lifted it up. Her eyes were determined; she walked out the door from whence we came and headed towards the church-like building towards the end of the place. It looked a lot like a chantry.

Without slowing down, Reyn strode up to the doors and flung them open. We followed behind her and our eyes fell open the rest of the missing villagers. They were praying, by the looks of it. The leader of the bunch was not happy to see us. He started spewing some tripe about being the chosen ones and keeping the Urn safe from harm. Reyn was, for lack of a better word, pissed. Her blue-green eyes were burning, and her hand was tight on her sword. She disagreed with the leader's words and extremist ways. Seeing the carnage caused by the insane believer really resonated within her; I think it was due in large part because of her parent's deaths. Reyn is duty incarnate. She is infallibly good, and will do everything she can to make sure justice is served. Well, she definitely served in cold. The cultist leader sent his men after us and attacked. Reyn herself took out three men without effort; she was quick to cut the leader down. The rest of us took down our own portion; Leliana and I killer with our daggers, Shale squished several with her fists, Sten with his massive sword and Wynne and Morrigan with their dual magic. Raines, the Warden's hound, joined Alistair in mowing down a couple. Afterwards, Reyn found a sun pendant from out the heretic's neck. Leliana had taken to looking at a bookcase with a curious look on her face; she pushed in one of the books that were slightly jutting out and the bookcase swung open to reveal a small room. Inside was none other than Brother Genetivi himself.

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We freed the man from his bindings and checked him for injuries. He had some bruises and cuts, and his ankle was a little messed up, but he was remarkably fine. He told us his story, of how he went in search of the Urn of legend and the trip had taken him to Haven, where he was met with crazy sacrificers and being kidnapped. We told him of Wylon's fate. He was upset that his research had led his young assistant to his premature demise. Reyn showed the pendant to the grieving man; he stared in shock and wonder. He said it was not a mere necklace; it was the key to the temple that held the Urn. He told us exactly how to use it. The brother wanted to accompany us, but Cousland was firm in saying no. There was no telling how many cultists were inside the temple; with his injury and lack of training, he would be a liability. Though he wanted to argue, he conceded the truth. All he asked was for us to bring just a smidgeon of the ashes so that he may look upon them. We left the brother behind and made our way to the temple ruins and the obstacles we would soon face.

The place was massive; more like a cave than an actual temple. Almost immediately upon entry were had to face off against some reavers that popped up. Most just had regular swords, although they did have a couple of bowmen. Leliana and I quickly put them down. There were several rooms and hallways we had to explore, killing more crazies as we went. I had no idea the population of Haven held so many people. If they weren't trying to brutally murder us, I would try to have them recruit Morrigan.

Again and again we fought and ventured deeper and deeper into the dangerous cavern. Until we came upon something a little more vicious and difficult to kill than the heretics…yep, you guessed it. Dragons. There were several near calls between my hair and their fiery breath; thankfully, nothing was singed off. By the looks of some of the caverns, the place was a dragon's nesting area. It seemed the cultists were harnessing dragons…lovely. Exactly what insane people need. It took some navigating, but we finally reached the room that was just before the summit of the mountain. The Maker, as usual, did not deign to make the trek to the summit easy. The head honcho of insane beliefs, Kolgrim, stood in the way of our exit. He stood with a couple of others, all wearing far better armor than the rest of the goons. Kolgrim…it's like his parents sensed he would eventually turn into a man who used a dead prophetess as an excuse to butcher knights and innocent civilians. Why else would the word 'grim' be in his name? Food for thought. Reyn confronted the man; he tried to persuade her to defile the ashes. She tried to reason with him, but his mental state was too far gone. He truly believed in the return of Andraste, and justified the sacrificing as a means to an end. Reyn refused to desecrate the holy remains; Leliana definitely seemed relieved at that. Her disgust and disbelief was apparent in her eyes.

Our leader's dismissal of his want drove Kolgrim to attack. Shale took one out; he ended up covering the ground…across several feet. Morrigan and Wynne assaulted the other with spells, and Leliana and I drove our daggers deep into him. Reyn took on Kolgrim alone; we did not dare to interfere. He was a skilled fighter, but our Warden was better. She struck a mighty blow across his chest, spinning her sword in her hand and swiftly plunging the blade into his chest. She only bore one long cut for her trouble. The bard tried to nurse it, but Cousland gently shooed her off. She took the lead and we vacated the cavern, light immediately burning our eyes. We took a few paces before Reyn's body tensed; a rigid, immobile stature. The group followed suit, and looked to see what caused the unusual reaction. The sight that we saw drove fear into our hearts. A bloody high dragon was circling overhead. I thought it had seen us, but lady luck was smiling down upon us. The dragon roosted at the top of the mountain, laying down and facing away from us. A gong stood off to the side, ancient and foreboding. It was obviously used to summon the dragon; we stayed well away from it.

We tiptoed passed the great beast, and entered through another cavern wall. The room itself was slightly different than others. For one, it held a man dressed in old battalion armor standing towards the back, guarding a door by the look of it. We hesitantly approached the man. He talked in a strange voice, like he was an ancient being. Or a ghost. He confirmed the existence of the Urn, and said we could take a pinch of the ashes…if we passed a test. Now, if a ghostly man in olden day armor standing close to a skeleton told you that you had to prove your worth in a test, what would you do? I, if in charge, would flee the place and never visit again. The Arl had a good life; no need to stick around a couple more years, right? Nope, Reyn had to accept the challenge. Only Leliana, myself, Reyn, Alistair and Wynne elected to go; the rest would stay behind.

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The guardian had a surprise in store for us; he knew of our pasts. He asked personal questions of us: Did Reyn regret leaving her parents to die? Did I miss my true family, or the Crows, Was Leliana's belief in the Maker just for attention…tough questions. We were all feeling the pressure at the end. But we gamely went forward. Each of us confronted a person from our past; Reyn saw her father, Leliana her mother. Wynne saw the son she had left behind, and Alistair saw his dead brother. I…saw a woman from my past. Her name was Olvera…she had been my best friend when I was young. She…was the only woman I had ever truly loved. She had gotten killed when we were teenagers. We had recently joined the Crows, and she had a target to kill. She killed him like asked, but his son caught up with her. She was unrecognizable. Never did get a proper funeral. She absolved me of any guilt, and told me to find another that made me truly happy. She did not want me to just have one-night stands for the rest of my life. It was…a very hard thing to bear witness to. After the heartwrenching first task, we had to face a puzzle. Leliana and Wynne figured it out; Cousland was mighty proud of her bard. Mmmm…sweet lady kisses. Then we faced our doppelgangers; shadows of ourselves. That was a real ringer. Shadow Zevran's thighs were far too pudgy for my tastes. The final task challenged us to prove our faith by baring our mortal bodies to the faith and Andraste. This was code for 'get naked and walk through the flames. If you don't believe you will be a crispy piece of bacon'. I tried to peek a glance at the female companions; what? They are incredibly attractive and if I must burn to death I want to at least die with a pleasant image in my head. Obviously, we did not die or burn to a crisp. We lived, and bore the privilege of seeing the remains of the prophetess and taking some of her ashes. Which is kinda creepy, if you think about it. Eamon will be consuming the ashes of a dead woman. Hopefully it is a good part. I was somewhat impressed to see that the rumors had proven true. The bard was beside herself at the sight. Seeing her faith in physical form was overwhelming to her.

We left the sacred burial chamber with heads high and hearts full of wonder and pride. Until we walked outside and came face to face with Sparky, the dragon mentioned earlier. And boy was Sparky pissed. I had a preview of the whole 'life flashing before your eyes' moment, for we would surely die a painful death. Reyn snapped everyone out of it; with a mighty cry, she charged the oversized lizard, drawing attention to her, and her, only. The bard tried to chase her, but Alistair blocked her with his shield, moving between her and the dragon. I set my bow up and sighted down the beast; notching an arrow, I let fly my missile. It struck satisfyingly in the dragon's jaw. The dragon let loose a howl, its wings beating frantically. Morrigan and Wynne were assisting our leader with their collection of spells, and Leliana had finally decided that manning her bow was a far better use to her beloved than chasing her or panicking like a girl.

Sten and Raines were following Reyn's lead and physically attacking the monstrosity. The combined blows and attacks from everyone wore the dragon down; he would not last very long under this kind of assault. But as is the wont of our luck, things took a turn for the worse. Sparky, in a rage, furiously beat his wings. The force of the gusts propelled Sten, Alistair and Raines back. Somehow, Reyn stayed on her feet. The dragon then slung his tail at both Reyn and Shale; the only two who were close to the thing. The thicker end struck Shale, sending her flying off in the opposite direction. The whip-like end hit Reyn devastatingly hard, throwing her many feet away. The Warden hit the ground hard, laying limply on her back. Leliana screamed and threw down her bow, rushing to her fallen lover. I tried to protect her with a volley of arrows, and our two mages aided in the efforts but we knew it would not be enough.

The others were coming to and struggling to stand up and aid us before a slaughter could begin. But it would not be enough. The dragon had set its eyes on the bard, making its way over to her position. Reyn was trying to get up, obviously very weak. She was holding her abdomen tightly, as if she was in pain. Her face was twisted in a grimace, and sweat lined her face, rolling down in rivulets. She looked over Leliana's shoulder, eyes going wide with horror and realization at the sight of the dragon. The dragon was almost upon them. Sparky reared its head back and snapped forward, lunging towards the women; intent on mutilating them was shining in its eyes. The maw of the beast opened wide, massive teeth flashing in the sunlight. Time almost seemed to slow down. I felt helpless, knowing I was about to see the two women die before me eyes. I overestimated Reyn's bravery and fortitude. With her last remaining strength, she pushed against Leliana with all her might. The bard landed a little away from the spot. She was still close to the dragon, but it was enough. The dragon grabbed Reyn's body with its mouth, lifting the helpless woman into the fatal embrace countless others had been placed in. Reyn was struggling, pained cries escaping her as the dragon sunk its teeth deeper into her body. Legs flailed, blood running down and falling to the earth below.

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Leliana screamed; the most heart-wrenching sound. I quickly notched an arrow, letting it fly into the eye of the dragon. It roared in pain, letting the limp woman drop to the ground below. Alistair, Sten and Raines were powerfully sawing into the dragon, and Morrigan and Wynne's magic were taking its toll. Finally, the dragon let out a sound of defeat before falling to the ground below, dead. We did not take time to revel in our accomplishment. We rushed to our fallen Warden's side. The bard was crying and clutching the woman to her chest. The injuries to Reyn were…ghastly. Her armor was rent and torn up, exposing the flesh below. You could not even tell the color of her skin for the amount of blood that completely covered her. Blood trickled from her mouth, and you could literally see her insides and bones poking out. It was too much, even for myself. Alistair retched to the side, moaning and crying at the sight of his friend's condition. Reyn herself as unconscious, possibly even dead. But Wynne gently placed a finger against the Warden's pulse point, listening for any signs of life. Her eyes widened, and her face grew urgent. She told us that Reyn was still alive, but only just. She and Morrigan would have to try and heal her, and quickly.

Sten cradled our leader to his chest as we rushed away from the dragon's body. We went through a different exit, getting out of the ruins through a secret opening and departing in mere minutes. We ran towards our former camp site, just a little ways from the ruins and Haven. A tent was hastily erected, and Morrigan shooed everyone away, stating that peace needed to be given for them to save Reyn's life. So we waited. And waited. Leliana was pacing around the fire, eyes bright and swollen from crying so much. Alistair looked pale and grief-stricken, and the rest of us were solemn and quiet. If our leader died…if Reyn passed on…we would be lost. Reyn was a captivating woman; fiery and encompassing like an inferno, and cool and soothing like water. She was the glue that kept us together and without that, our little group hadn't a chance in hell of defeating the blight.

Hours later, Wynne departed from the makeshift infirmary. Lines marred her face, and dark circles had taken root underneath her eyes. She told us that our leader lived, and would eventually recover, at least physically. But, Wynne could not attest to her mental state. Nor was she certain that Reyn would ever even wake up. The news was taken hard, especially by the bard. A wail of the fiercest of heartaches erupted from her; she ran to the tent and stayed in there with her beloved. Morrigan exited a little after, a look of daresay worry in her eyes. She excused herself and left to her tent, but not before making sure we would yell for her if Reyn's condition changed. For better or worse. That's the place I am at at the moment. Reyn still has not changed, and the rest of us are anxious. This is where I must leave you, friends. I must try to get sleep, even though I doubt it will come on swift wings, if at all, tonight. Hopefully tonight there will be a change and tomorrow will shine bright indeed. If not… I fear that darkness will enter far earlier than anticipated. I hope for Ferelden's sake, and our groups, that Reyn is alright. Not only will Ferelden lose one of the last remaining Wardens and the one that stood the most chance against the Darkspawn, but I will lose a friend. Till tomorrow, my friends. And hold your loved ones close; they may not always be around.

Farewell,

Zevran

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AN: I hope you guys enjoyed chapter 5! However, with the end looming ever closer, I have a very big decision to make. As anyone who has played DA: O knows, the Warden can either live after the battle in a blaze of glory…or sacrifice their life to save Ferelden. With that being said, a decision has to be made: does Reyn live, or sacrifice herself for the greater good? Now, I know the one I am leaning towards because it is frankly my favorite ending and though it is heartbreaking I think it fits this version of Reyn well, but I would like to ask your opinion on the matter. What do you want to be Reyn's fate? It may not change my choice, but then again it very well could. Leave feedback for me on your answer; the end is fast approaching!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I apologize for not updating in almost a month; I have been busy, and I have wanted to branch out and write other DA ideas. This chapter has been split up into two parts; the fun part comes next chapter. I do not go into horrible detail in this chapter; I am saving the descriptions for the Deep Roads, one of my favorite parts in the game. Get ready, the Broodmother awaits!

Disclaimer: I do **not** own DA: O or the characters. Just playin' with them and making their lives interesting and sometimes dangerous.

Thankfully I get to start this journal off with some good news: Reyn is recovering just fine. Wynne and Morrigan took turns during the night taking care of our injured Warden. Leliana talked to her for part of the time, gently caressing the still face and speaking soft words, pleading for her to wake up. Wynne teared up a few times at the heartbreaking sight. Everyone in the group knows we are on borrowed time. Anyone of us could go at any time, any day. Such is the nature of the undertaking we have undergone. But actually having to wait for a fellow member to wake up, not knowing if they will make it through the night…having to sit and pretend you are asleep while listening to the injured teammate's lover sob brokenly for their safe recovery…it is a difficult thing to bear witness to.

You see, I am not really knowledgeable with love. Romance, playful romps beneath sheets…those can do, and do rather well. However I have only felt love once before, and she died before I could ever let her know. I can safely say that Reyn and Leliana are true loves. There is not a more perfect, purer couple than the noble Warden and the faithful bard. If anything happened to one of them, I do not know if the other could survive…Well, at least it will not happen at this moment in time. Though she was initially in a fair amount of pain, our mages have eased the amount and made it so as to be barely felt. Our fearless leader has even managed to stand and has been walking around, albeit with her lover following her like a hawk, chiding her gently when Reyn tried to push herself too hard. Still, you could see the love and overwhelming relief shining out from her beautiful blue eyes.

I was getting increasingly uncomfortable with my rather sappy feelings, so I did what any respectable man in my position would do. I asked Reyn if she felt better; good enough to exercise? I think Reyn sensed it, for her eyebrows kinked up, and her blue-green eyes filled with amusement. However, she played along and her bard was so happy that she was unharmed that she did not catch the undercurrent of sex I oozed into my voice. So, I made my intentions crystal clear. The end result was me running for my life from an irate bard wielding a dagger and a still recovering Warden laughing her sexy little backside off at poor Zevran's escapade. Ah well; it distracted them, right?

The laughter and good times, like all good things, had to end. Reyn was given ample time to recuperate, and after a couple of days we started towards our last ally rally point: the blasted dwarves of Orzammar. Many of you would be wondering, why do I seem not to fond of dwarves? Well, tis simple: I'm not. The last time I came upon a gaggle of dwarves, they tried to bludgeon me. Why, do you say? Well, I tried to…charm the leader's consort...err, wife. She sounded the alarm to her dear old hairy husband, and I quickly escaped. It has always nagged me; how on earth could that woman not want me? She would rather sleep with a vertically stunted, hairy-legged brute of a man than the perfection that is my body? Hmm, the answer is easy to me. Dwarven women are quite crazy.

The Frostback Mountains were quite cold. Oh, I know that at first glance it does not look that way; it actually looks kind of hot. That deduction would be wrong. I had icicles hanging from my…dagger. I do not know how Reyn and Alistair could even move in there armor; they certainly did not look very happy. Or maybe that's because Raines had just eaten some foul looking meat and…ah, dispelled it in the air and it had flown back towards them. Too bad the stench did not kill any of the bandits that waylaid almost as soon as we entered the mountainous region. We had to do all the killing ourselves. It was very annoying, and time-consuming. Will these bandits never learn to stay clear of the large group wearing armor and hosting a crazy witch? Nah, her bosom is quite magical. We ventured deeper, finally coming to a small bridge that led to an enormous clearing hosting various merchant stalls manned by dwarves. Armor, potions, mysterious looking things that smelled like death…they had it all. And further back at the apex of the huge mountain stood an enormous door with a small contingent of dwarves guarding it with what looked like...Loghain's cronies verbally sparring with them.

Turns out, it was Loghain's goons. The dwarves denied them passage to their home, stating there was a dire emergency concerning their politics inside that prevented them to allow anyone in. Of course, Reyn calmly strolled up to the bunch and stated that she was a Grey Warden and needed to see the dwarf in charge on account of an emergency. The leader of the dwarves thoughtfully pondered the words, and accepted the truth in them. Let's just say the other men were not too fond of us. The thought that Loghain's words had more power, and drew swords on us. Alistair tried to talk them down, but they would not listen so we were forced to take them all on. We won, all right. Really, it was almost sad how easily we bested them.

The dwarves were not too pleased with the mess on their doorstep, but they still granted us access to Orzammar. Walking through those great doors and looking at all the sculptures and monuments…it was harrowing and awe-inspiring. Though not Antiva, Orzammar did have a certain rustic beauty about it. Of course, witnessing the murder of a dwarf against some noble man named Bhelen broke the pristine image, turning into the common bloodbath we have become used to. A guard broke up the fighting, but in the end a life was still lost. I could not help but think about what exactly we were getting ourselves into. It seems like all of our potential allies need us to save them; how…ironic.

Reyn, jaw clenched tightly due to the needless killing, interrogated the dwarf of the going-ons about this place. The guard was not too friendly or forthcoming, but he did explain who this Bhelen fellow was. Bhelen was apparently a prince; he was the youngest son of the famed Aeducan family, which was the ruling family of the dwarves since…awhile. His father had died and on the deathbed he told his advisor, a Lord Harrowmont, that he did not want Bhelen to ascend the throne; Harrowmont himself was the chosen successor. That started a huge battle over who would be king; some wanted an Aeducan to stay on the throne, as was custom. But still others were wary of Bhelen's…aggression. He was not exactly a stand-up guy, according to most. The kicker is that we had to help put one of these men on the throne; otherwise we could mark off the dwarves as potential allies.

After chatting it up with some of the native hairy beasts, we delved deeper into the two potential successors. Harrowmont seemed the better man; good, honest, and humble. Having the deceased king personally hand-pick him was a big bonus as well. Bhelen, the actual prince, was none of those things. Ruthless, cunning, an all-around bastard… he would have made a fine Crow. Of course, just talking to the natives did not necessarily mean the choice was black and white; both men had advisors that had to be spoken to, as neither men were willing to put themselves in the line of possible assassination. Pretty smart, actually. Well, Harrowmont's advisor, Dulin something, was a good bit friendlier than ol' Vartag was. After listening to both advisors and talking to a few more key dwarves, we decided that Harrowmont sounded far more appealing than Prince KILLjoy (Haha, now see what I did there? Better than Alistair's princess stabbity comment, eh?) Well, Dulin told us that to be able to prove our fealty to him, we must perform in the proving. Reyn, being the scary, skilled, and delectable Warden she is, agreed.

Reyn entered the proving, swinging her sword and generally making the audience swoon at her sheer gloriousness. Leliana could not stop staring at her behind in the armor…and neither could I. Leliana eventually found out where exactly my eyes were wandering and decided to hit me in the back of the head…I feel almost sorry for the Warden now. If she is this forceful, what she must be like in be- suddenly, I find myself more aroused than sorrowful. While Reyn readied herself to fight, the rest of us just enjoyed the view. After battling alongside the Cousland warrior, we knew well enough who the victor would be. Indeed, she plowed through each and every battle thrown at her, winning by a large margin. It was almost sad, really. Needless to say, Harrowmont was a happy, happy dwarf and Bhelen…well, he was not a happy, happy dwarf. Actually, he was blind with fury. Charming guy, truly.

We finally got a counsel with Arrow-mount, come on, you know that is what it sounds like, and we generally liked the man. He seemed full of good intentions, no malice or inclinations to murder his adversaries. In other words…not Bhelen. Or, come to think of it, Morrigan. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to play matchmaker with the witch and the dwarf prince. Ahhh, true love. Though Orzammar, and Ferelden for that matter, may not survive. Harrowmont, even though Reyn was his official champion now, was not convinced that the outcome of the proving was enough. No, he suggested that the best way to further his chances was to eliminate a threat that had been hanging over the dwarves for awhile. Her name was Jarvia, and she ran the carta of thugs that had been harassing people and had hideouts all over Orzammar. He told us that Dust Town would be the best bet of finding out information. What else were we to do besides accept the proposal? Now, we are staying at Harrowmont's lavish estate, resting before the showdown. With a name like Jarvia, she cannot be too hard, no? Now, on to more important things: getting this dwarf maid to let me peek under her tray and see her goodies.

Farewell,

Zevran, the dwarf-seducer


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Aaaand here is chapter 7, the long-awaited final Orzammar chapter. I have tried my best to get this out to you as soon as possible; all writing on my other chapter stories has ceased until this story is complete. Only two chapters remain; the Landsmeet, and the one we are all waiting for: the final battle. Not much longer, my friends, until we say goodbye to Zevran…and possibly more characters. Thank you to all who have reviewed/favorite/followed/read this series so far. Special thanks to Apollo-Wings, Raven Sinead and FenixV for their continued support and love of this story. You guys are what pushed me to continue this, so thank you! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do **not** own Dragon Age in any way, and I do not profit from any of my stories. They are just for fun.

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I woke up this morning feeling relaxed and ready to take down a menacing female dwarf who is terrorizing the entirety of Orzammar. I stretched my muscles like a cat, delighting in the luxury of having lain on an actual bed to sleep. This has not happened in months; it is the little things like this that you do not think you would miss, but it pangs you terribly when you have to go without. My thigh muscles burned delightfully; Maker, but that dwarf was a firecracker in bed! I have sample many wines; tall and fruity, dark and needed to be kept at a certain temperature, and some that I would not have examined so closely if I had not partaken in some of the finest Antivan wine beforehand. But this woman…I should move to Orzammar! Apparently I have going after the wrong types. Maybe after we finish up in the Deep Roads, if we do not get dragged away and become food for the Darkspawn, I shall give her something to remember me by…other than the various marks, of course.

Ah well, an elf cannot daydream for very long. I quickly dressed in my usual attire, belting on my trusty daggers with ease. After I was ready for our trek, I sauntered to the door. I bestowed my bedmate one last longing look, before vacating the room, heading into unknown waters. I met my companions in the foyer, where we had met Harrowmont the day before. Reyn and Harrowmont were already deep into discussion, heads bent together and urgent whispering barely drifting towards my sensitive ears. Leliana walked over to me, her ice blue eyes staring at her lover, like she was wont to do when our leader was not firmly attached at her side. The bard filled me in on what I had missed; we were to find out where Jarvia's headquarters was, and infiltrate it. After venturing into her lair, we had to find the target and apprehend her. That, or kill her. She would be the one to pick the option. After we nabbed Jarvia, we would report back to Harrowmont, and then delve into the Deep Roads to find the missing Paragon Branka. It would turn the vote in Harrowmont's favor, if we were to get her on our side. So far, Jarvia sounds like a safer option…

About this time, Reyn had finished talking. She stood up, eyes focused on the mission at hand. Morrigan and Alistair stopped their bickering, looking to the Warden for details. She nodded her head slightly, gesturing for us to get the job over and done with. Shale was gleeful; she truly did love to squish humans as much as she did pigeons…well, maybe not quite as much. Sten looked ready to try out Asala; we had helped him find it right before we came to Orzammar. Everyone else adopted grim expressions. We wished Harrowmont goodbye, and he in turn gave us his luck. Reyn led us to Dust Town, basically the poor district. The casteless and beggars made their homes there, if you could call it a home. We interrogated some of the poor people, gaining what little information we could about Jarvia and her carta. Unfortunately, Jarvia had instilled terror in these people, and they were not very forthcoming with details. Thankfully, a beggar named Nadezda agreed to tell us what we needed to know. A former member of the carta herself until her kneecaps were cruelly broken and infection was made to set in, Nadezda told us of a fingerbone that every carta member possessed in order to gain entrance into the various entryways that led into the hideout. For giving us this information, Reyn generously gave the woman a considerable sum of coin, causing the beggar to thank us profusely.

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Leliana and I inspected the door Nadezda had pointed us to, examining it for any traps detrimental for our code of staying alive. We found none. Leliana also tried to jimmy the lock, but to no avail. Reyn sighed in frustration; we would just have to wait until some members came along. Morrigan was staring at an unremarkable door as this went along, a thoughtful expression on her face. She pointed out the door to the rest of the group, telling us that a sixth sense of hers was imploring her that the answer to our problem was just inside. Alistair scoffed at this, making a joke of it and pissing Morrigan off; you know, the usual. Though Alistair was skeptical, the rest of us knew that Morrigan did not make useless statements, unless of course she was bantering with our other resident Warden. Surprisingly, even Wynne sided with Morrigan; after all, what would it hurt us to just check the building real quick? We were just standing around like bumps on a log, so actually investigating something was the infinitely better of the two. So, we made a beeline for the door. Lo and behold, there were a few carta aficionados in there; after a brief scuffle, we managed to beat the members and secure our little white key into the hideout. We let the vanquished thugs go; they would not have a leader soon, when we had our way.

We exited the small dilapidated building and headed to the…other dilapidated building, across the small, dusty square. Reyn took hold of the bone, sticking it in the little hole. The door gave a small click sound, granting us the entrance we needed. We all looked at one another; it was time to get down to business. Immediately upon entering, a gruff dwarf asked us for a password. Reyn, looking completely straight-faced, told him the password was ass-sword. The dwarves faces were priceless. The senior one asked why exactly she thought that was the password. Without breaking character, she said it was because she was fixing to stick Starfang up his short, stubby ass. Then, in a lightning-fast movement, she darted forward, burying her blue blade in the dwarf's chest. The others watched in horrified fascination as the dying dwarf croaked his last breath, slowly sliding down the lethal steel in a spray of blood. The Warden nonchalantly cleaned her sword until it once again glowed, asking the others if they were eager to meet the same fate. Apparently they were more scared of Jarvia, for they attacked us. They did not last overly long. We left the bodies lying there, venturing further into the place. There were various rooms and tunnels to explore, all filled with more men eager for their demise. We made paste out of them all, no mercy given.

There were several chests filled with spoils along the way, alongside various pieces of fairly good armor. We took what we could carry, leaving the rest for later. Even if we could, or did not, use them, they would pick up fair coin in the market. We kept up our pace, fighting the enemies that came our way. In one of the small alcoves was a small area dedicated to housing misfortunates. There was a rotting corpse in one, in the latter stages of decomposition. In the other was a dwarf by the name of Leske. After listening to what he had to say, we released him and he ran off, boots echoing in the dimly-lit tunnels. We continued on, plowing ahead. Our goal was close, we could practically feel it. Finally we came to a large room; Jarvia decided to show her…surprisingly glorious face. Hmm, suddenly I really do not want to have to kill her. She looks like she would be fun to play with…I bet her endurance is remarkable. Alas, it was not to be. Jarvia chose not to surrender and vacate the premises quietly, so we would have to put the dog down. What followed was a gloriously epic fight, much more so than many others. Reyn took off after the carta leader, while the rest of us had to contend with her many followers. A stubby, muscular dwarf came after me, swinging his axe with a loud battle cry. I easily dodged, locking my legs together at the end of it and shooting my arm out towards his stomach; a dagger was firmly in hand. I really think the dwarf needed to see a doctor…he had a rather sizeable hole in his middle. Not very healthy if you ask me. I left him and went over to help Leliana, who was taking on three men. With my added expertise, we made quick work of them. Wynne was busy healing Alistair on the fly, since he had a cut on his upper forearm. Sten was swinging his massive sword around, and Shale was squishing the hapless dwarves with her fists of justice. And Reyn…well, she was doing what she does best: kicking ass while looking amazing. Jarvia was admittedly a skilled combatant, but she was no match for the noble swordswoman. Before long, Reyn's blade had slipped through the dwarf's defense, plunging deep into her chest. She spluttered, trying unsuccessfully to take in more air through her ruined chest. Reyn's eyes were cold as she looked upon her fallen foe; the woman would get no pity for her death, not when she had made others go through a death far worse than the one she was experiencing. Jarvia gently fell off the blade, body thumping to the ground. The deed was done.

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We ended up finding a secret door; the pathway actually led to Janar Armorers. Janar…he was not too happy to see us. For one…we kind of left a hole in his wall. Two, he was afraid of the carta thinking of him as an accessory to Jarvia's murder. And three, we gave his young daughter hope of getting into the Circle of Magi. So, he quickly shooed us out, but not before I flashed my dagger at him. He shrank away in fear, not meeting my eyes. Reyn caught the movement; smirking, she pulled me away and out the door. We reported back to Harrowmont. Pleased with our success, he briefed us in on our final mission before the new king was elected and before the dwarves would become our allies. We were to find Branka, the missing paragon and the head of House Branka. We had also promised a young dwarf to find documents in the Ortan Thaig, so she could find out if she was indeed the last surviving member of the house. Also, an older woman named Filda implored us to find her missing son, Ruck. We are supposedly all softies now, so we took both of these little sidequests. Harrowmont's kindly eyes took us in, as if memorizing our features. Respect shone from his eyes like the very beacon from the Tower of Ishal. We left his generous hospitality with the parting words of, "ready the crown, sir! Because you will soon be wearing it!" It was a short walk to the Deep Road's entrance; we had just gotten the guarding dwarves posted there to let us through when a short, bushy-haired dwarf came up to us. The flame-headed brute was named Oghren, and he was apparently married to Branka, the very woman we were looking for.

Oghren, obviously a little buzzed, gruffly asked to come with us. When Reyn tried to dissuade him from accompanying our group, he countered with his intimate knowledge of the tunnels and thaigs, as he had actually been down there before. He even had a map with him; a useful treasure for our hunt. Reyn was obviously torn; you could smell the alcohol on the dwarf, and we already had a large group. Although having more manpower could be good in fights with a large horde, it also made it impossible to hide should the need arise. We were quite noticeable. It was I who effectively coerced her into letting Oghren join; his use far outweighed the risks and cons. Morrigan surprisingly agreed with me; are the Darkspawn flying, now? No? The others saw the potential of the partnership as well, and our leader allowed him to accompany us. As a heartfelt thank you for letting him into our folds, Oghren promptly let loose with a torrent of the foulest wind ever known to Ferelden. Far worse than the Mabari, far, far worse. Morrigan almost froze him right there, if not for Alistair and Leliana hurriedly distracting her. He stayed far away from the witch, and Shale too. He could tell her favorite pastime was squishing things.

Upon first entering the Deep Roads, we were all struck dumb by the sheer beauty of the architecture. The work was astounding; it is a shame that the Darkspawn have taken over the thaigs. I can see now why the dwarves are always grumpy looking and walk like something is shoved in their backside. We were accosted by Darkspawn soon after entering one of the tunnels off the beaten path. They did not take us long to take down. We continued on, battling various bursts of the foul creatures as well as these lizard-things called Deepstalkers. Annoying little buggers; one of them nearly ripped a whole in the boots Reyn gave to me as a gift! We ended up in Aeducan Thaig, the last place to be overrun. It was the same name taken by the previous king, and Bhelen as well. We explored it, making note of any interesting items or spots. It had not sign of anything of total relevance, however. Caridin's Cross was our next big stop. Some dwarves hired by Bhelen attack us, but they were too few for our large group. Within mere seconds, all were dead. This place was far larger than the other one, and we covered a lot of ground. Darkspawn and enemies littered the place; it was exhausting work, but we defeated each and every threat that charged at us. Oghren looked at the map; we were close to the Ortan Thaig. More beasts appeared before we could head that way; Leliana traded in her bow for her dagger in this encounter. Shale pummeled one, before throwing it into another one. Reyn blocked a strike from a Hurlock with her shield, forcing it back with a burst of strength. Then she struck it hard in the face with the hard metal shield, the face caving in. After cleaning up a tad, we followed the desired path. It did not take too long to find the documents young Orta requested of us; Reyn pocketed them so they would not fall out.

Not just Darkspawn haunted these tunnels; angry dwarven spirits tried to attack us (really, how effective is a ghost sword supposed to be? Honestly?) as well as spiders corrupted by the Darkspawn taint. After cutting a bloody swath all around the Ortan Thaig, we found a slightly smaller tunnel. It was off the beaten path, but the promise of maybe finding more weapons and armor made it worth it. We were keeping our eye out for Ruck as well; maybe this path would lead to him, or give clues to his whereabouts. After walking for a few minutes, a shadow caught my eye. A small, hunched dwarf started fleeing from us when he saw he had been spotted. We gave chase; the unknown person yelled out, causing a small wave of spiders to attack us. After killing them all, we followed the same tunnel, hoping to find the dwarf. Turns out, he was Ruck. The guy told us a tragic tale; he had accidentally killed one of the dwarves in his party when they had traveled there years ago, and instead of staying and getting exiled, he ran away. In order to survive, he had to make tough decisions regarding his food…he was forced to devour Darkspawn corpses. Thus, Ruck had been tainted. I guess the trade-off was nice…they did not bother him any. Ruck made us promise to tell his mother he had died so she would only have good memories of him. Reyn looked absolutely conflicted; on one hand, she loathed lying, and she had told Filda she would bring her son back. But, Ruck had a point. He was not the same boy that had first entered the tunnels five years ago, and seeing him in this state might be too much for her to handle. I personally thought it would be a mercy to end his suffering; death was far preferable to this. Shale, Sten and Morrigan agreed. I did not think Reyn could kill him, unfortunately. It just was not in her nature. So, I was surprised when she did just that. She quickly drove her blade into his chest, making it as quick and painless as possible. Afterwards, she held his body in her arms, tears streaming down her face while we somberly looked on. It was heartbreaking and tragic, yes, but it had to be done. We buried him as well as we could, and moved on.

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Reyn was quiet as we walked. I could tell that Ruck's fate weighed heavily on her mind. I placed my hand on her shoulder, expressing with my eyes what I thought. Blue-green eyes, rich with sadness, stared deep into my own. After a few seconds, a brief smile flitted across her face, and she gave a tiny nod. I smiled back, glad to have been able to ease the pain somewhat. Leliana gave me a grateful look. We soon came to a clearing infested with more arachnids thirsty for our blood. The queen of the spiders made her appearance as well. I headed straight for the queen, thinking that maybe if she fell, the spiders would escape. Confident the others would keep the spiders off my back, I launched myself at the queen, using my dagger to harry her and generally piss her off, like I do with most females. Dark blood dripped from a wound on her side; I moved forward, intent on ending the fight quickly. The spider queen was faster than I thought; she leapt at me, taking me down under her massive girth. Her fangs lowered until they were distended over my face. Poisonous venom dripped onto my face, causing me to scream as my flesh burned. Before any more damage could be done, or my face getting eaten off, the spider was ripped off of my body. I saw Reyn and Shale fighting the beast; Starfang and a pair of rocky fists soon turned the spider into a puddle of mush and venom. Leliana had brought Wynne to my side; she healed my face, telling me that I would have a tiny scar on my cheek. That's okay; chicks dig scars. I…probably should not have told Wynne that as she was healing my burns-that, or I should not have offered to give her a more up-close and personal look at the new scars…while lying comfortably in each other's arms with not a stitch of clothing on us. She can be quite vindictive; healing should not hurt like that.

Well, enduring the burns and annoying spider battles was actually beneficial. Branka's Journal just so happened to be situated right behind the makeshift battlefield. In it, the paragon talked about discovering the Anvil was not in fact made in the Ortan Thaig; so she and her house traveled into the Dead Trenches, where hopefully the Anvil would be found. Her house thought her mad; I tend to agree with them. She also gave a shout-out to Oghren, who was beside himself with happiness that she remembered him. I am not sure, but my instincts are telling me that there is more to this Branka than he knows. My gut is telling me that something dark has gone on, and that she is not the amazing paragon everyone thinks her to be. Well, I guess we shall soon find out. The Dead Trenches await.

We are in hell. That is the only thing close enough to describe this place. Dead Trenches is an apt name indeed. Darkspawn are crawling everywhere; thankfully, a platoon of Legion of the Dead dwarves is here, and they help us clean house. After Reyn impressively mounted an Ogre and slew him, we went over to talk to the leader of the group, Kardol. He gave us some good information, and we moved on after saying our goodbyes. We moved deep into the underbelly of the fetid place, taking out more and more tainted beasts in our quest to find Branka. A chilling poem assails our ears as we plow deeper, causing our bones to freeze and our blood to turn to ice. We looked at each other, wondering who was saying the poem and what the poem was referring to. I had an idea, but I hoped to the Maker it was not so. I could tell by Reyn's eyes that she had also figured it out; her skin was pale, and she looked sick. But, we kept our pace and moved on, getting closer to the mystery poem-reciter. The mystery woman turned out to be Hespith, a former captain of House Branka and, surprisingly, her lover. Boy was Oghren pissed when he heard that. He was not too pleased that his wife had cheated on him with a woman; talk about ruining a guy's masculine. She recited the poem again, for our benefit.

_First day, they come and catch everyone.__  
__Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.__  
__Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.__  
__Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.__  
__Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.__  
__Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.__  
__Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.__  
__Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated.__  
__Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.__  
__Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.__  
__Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams._

Creepy, huh? Yeah I thought so too. Hespith then told us of Branka's madness, and the lengths she had gone to to find the Anvil. It was quite horrific; Branka had willingly sacrificed her house to use as test dummies. She had let the men get torn apart by the Darkspawn, and the women ravaged and transformed into…things. Broodmother…that is what the women became. That is what Laryn became. The scene around her…dead everywhere. The remains of House Branka were scattered around us, nothing more than bloodstains or bloody bodies on pikes. I have seen many horrible things in my time, most that would curl your blood and cause nightmares. But this…no words could describe it. I will never forget the sight, even if I live to be a hundred. Hespith soon fled, leaving us with a cold we could not abate. We slowly headed on, clutching our weapons tighter to us, waiting for the evil that was spoken of the become reality. We…would not be disappointed.

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Hespith's words could in no way prepare us for what we would face ahead. Broodmother…the memory of seeing it for the first time, seeing what Laryn became…it haunts my thoughts. When we opened the doors leading into the chamber holding the transformed dwarf, walking down the tunnels and mentally preparing ourselves for what was to come, we were in no way ready for the sight that greeted us. Laryn was huge; tentacles coming out of her and rows of teats going down her distended body. It was grotesque, and I tried valiantly not to be sick. Fighting it was even worse. Her tentacles kept flopping around, smashing hard in the spots we were in not a minute before, dodging before we met a crushing demise. She called Darkspawn to her as well; Reyn made sure all the women of the group were protected in a little huddle, kept well away from the thoroughfare in front of our eyes. Reyn, Alistair and Sten all went for the frontal assault; they attacked the Broodmother with their blades. Raines and Oghren we made to protect Morrigan, Wynne and Leliana while the three women used magic and arrows to fell the encroaching Darkspawn and their mother. Shale took turns between throwing huge rocks at our enemies and keeping them off the girls' backs. The fight seemed to go on forever, but finally, after what seemed like hours of dancing around and waving swords, Reyn dashed forward, taking a leap of faith and jumping high up in the air, bringing Starfang down in a vicious assault. The blade stabbed deep into the fatty flesh, cutting through easily. The Broodmother gave a final croaking sound before the body shuddered violently, sagging to the ground moments later. We all exchanged looks when the monstrosity was beaten, thanking the Maker for allowing us all to live past it. Hespith reappeared after the beast was slain; she recited more words, her heart shattered at what Branka had done to her house. She ran off; we tried to catch up to her, but it was too late. She had jumped off the cliff, leaving nothing of her but a broken body below. It was sad, but we had to move on. We owed it to House Branka and Hespith to get to Branka and decide what to do about her. We looked to the future, marching forwards. The Deep Roads would be their grave, just like the Wardens who fulfill their calling here.

Okay, let me just say what is on everyone's minds, and what everybody knows by this point in the journal: Branka is totally, completely insane. When we first met her and accused her of betraying her house and letting them all die, she justified her actions by saying that knowledge of the golems was far more important. She went on and on about how letting her followers die a gruesome death was necessary, and that she did not give a hoot who was king. Reyn was trying her hardest not to kill Branka; her hands were tight on her sword, eyes filled with a fire that rivaled those in a forge. But she kept her sense and implored Branka to show some sign of her favor towards Harrowmont. Branka agreed to it, if we helped her get the anvil. Reyn reluctantly agreed, though her eyes were cunning and swift. I knew she would kill her in a heartbeat if betrayal was on her mind. Once the acceptance was out in the open, Branka sent us through this test designed by Caridin to keep people out. And was it a doozy. We had to face (more) angry dwarf spirits, (more) gigantic golems, and just (more) of everything I did not particularly want to face. But, the Maker seems to enjoy pitting us against things that wish to kill us. Hilarious, truly a comedian. We passed the test, and made it to the famed Anvil of the Void. But, as we were making our way to it, another golem arose, though this one was far bigger than our previous foes. It made Shale look like a baby rock! The big guy surprised us by saying he was Caridin; yes, the very dwarf who had created the anvil. The once-famed paragon had created the anvil to much success long ago, but after seeing the pain that had to be undergone to make one and how few people actually volunteered…it changed his tune. But the king at that time did not share Caridin's reformed heart. Instead, he forced Caridin to become one of his own creations. Caridin managed to hide the anvil in this place, fending off any who tried to use it for nefarious purposes. Nobody had gotten that far in the last centuries since then. He also gave Shale insight into her past, which shocked us all. About this time, Mrs. Crazy Dwarf walks up, proclaiming that the anvil must be preserved and used to strengthen Orzammar.

Oghren tried to talk sense into her, but she dismissed him as if he were no more than an annoying peasant. Of course we sided with Caridin. Branka was not pleased; she was even less so when she ended up with a sword lodged in her abdominals. She was not silenced right away; a small skirmish following her angry outburst had ensued, calling forth golems to smash us all into bits. It was a little tough going, but we managed to push them back and kill them all. Reyn talked Caridin into giving a symbol of his vote, granting us the choice of who to give it to. A crown was fashioned, and Reyn stepped up to fulfill her promise. As leader, she was the one chosen for the job. She hefted the magical hammer up high and brought it down hard, destroying the anvil forever more. Caridin breathed in relief; after thanking us for our efforts, he jumped into the lava below, getting the sweet release he had craved of for so long. As for us, we made our way back to Orzammar, ready to put our king on the throne.

Well, upon making it back to the dwarven city and entering the Chamber of Assembly, we showed all the dwarves inside the crown. We announced that we sided with Harrowmont, and that he had gained the favor of the ancestors. Without further ado, Harrowmont was officially declared king. But, Prince Bhelen did not take that sitting down whilst humming a tune to himself. He and some of his men attacked us, intent on killing us all. However, he had underestimated our abilities. As his body fell to the floor in defeat, victory was shouted. We had one it; we had united Orzammar, put the rightful king on the throne, and procured the last allies needed before the landsmeet. We soon left Harrowmont, with the promise of meeting for the upcoming battle soon. Bye bye, dwarves! We are in Redcliffe now, staying at the castle in soft, fluffy beds. Ah, how I have missed you! Eamon has called forth the Landsmeet, and we will depart for Denerim on the morrow. A lot still needs to be done before the final battle commences. Loghain's treachery must come to fruition, so that Ferelden may come together to meet the Blight head-on; otherwise, we will surely fall. Here's hoping to the big man finally getting justice served to him on a big old silver tray. I will write more after the Landsmeet, my friends. Hopefully I will have good news to share.

Farewell,

Zevran, the pooped-out assassin-elf

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	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: Okay guys, here it is: the penultimate chapter of Zevran's journal. This chapter is devoted entirely to the Landsmeet, and the quests you must go through in order to complete it. Now, as you know, after this I will be writing a full-fledged DA story, of which the first chapter is already up. It is titled, "A World Up in Flames." I am a firm believer in giving back to my faithful readers. So, I am proposing a contest. Whoever correctly guesses the question gets their own original character that will be a love interest of Alistair's. Note that I said love interest; they will not necessarily end up with him at the end. And when I say original character, I definitely mean original. Everything from the name and physical traits down to their specialization and race, it will all be devised by the winner. The runner-up will also get an original character, but it will not be affiliated with any of the main characters, and it will be a smaller cameo. The characters will appear in the new DA story. Now, the question is: Name Alistair's mother, and her race. The information is stated in the novel, _The Calling_. The winner will be announced at the beginning of the next chapter. Happy guessing!

Disclaimer: I do **not** own Dragon Age: Origins or any of the characters, besides my own original characters. I also am not profiting over writing this story.

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The Landsmeet was definitely interesting. Frankly, I am surprised we even won; I had admittedly figured we would lose and then be hastily executed so Loghain would have free reign on Ferelden, unopposed. But, since I am writing you this journal page, I am sure you can guess who was victorious. Not to brag, or anything. But, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start from where my last journal left off…

Our motley band of misfits with flailing swords had taken refuge at Castle Redcliffe the night before journeying to Denerim. After resting our wearied bodies and shining up our armor (let's not forget sharpening our blades), we went down the grand staircases that led to the upper floors and convened with Arl Eamon. While we had been risking life and limb out in the Deep Roads trying to recruit allies, Eamon had been devising a plan on approaching the Landsmeet subject. The man had already written out the words he wanted to say, but held on to it until we came back from our quest. Challenging Loghain had to be done wisely and with caution. Though many people were skeptical of his motives, there were still those that thought him a hero, and gladly followed in his wake. If he said jump, they would jump high. If he said to go slaughter that innocent young chap…well, they would probably do it. He had already told us that Alistair was a viable candidate, but now he really pushed forward the idea. Poor Warden, he looked absolutely miserable. He tried his damndest to deter Eamon from that course, but the arl did have a point. Alistair was the only remaining blood connection to the Therein lineage, and because of that he had the best chance of dumping Loghain out on his greasy, traitorous arse. Or turn him into a pincushion, which would work too. Reluctantly, our resident royal bastard agreed, though he was not the happiest little prince in Ferelden. With that out of the way, Eamon sent out letters calling for the Landsmeet. After that business was done, Eamon told us to ready ourselves for a jaunt. By that, he meant gathering up our supplies and heading to Denerim. Jaunt, indeed.

It took a little while, but we finally managed to arrive at Denerim. Nobles from various places bumped into us; well, they mostly ignored us and conversed with Eamon. And our famous Warden. We had to grow accustomed to the heavy stares directed at us, especially since a giant golem was ambling alongside us. It was definitely amusing when Shale tried to squish a pigeon…oh, the look on the faces! Our first order of business was situating ourselves in Eamon's lavish estate. We set up shop, leaving extra armor and weapons in our rooms. After that, we made our way to where the meet would be held so we could meet with the other nobles. It was a sort of pre-meet party. It was a way the nobles could mingle and reacquaint themselves with one another, before clawing each other's throats at the Landsmeet. We left Shale, Morrigan, Raines and Oghren at the estate. A scary golem, a scary and altogether unpleasant witch, a Mabari that has a flatuation problem and a dwarf with the same affliction were not really what we needed at such an important event. Thankfully, they all had other things they wanted to do. So the rest of us made the short journey to the meeting place, eager to scout out our opponents.

Apparently, that was not a good idea. We ran into Loghain almost immediately, but he was not alone. Rendon Howe was by his side, looking every bit the snake-like, smug bastard he was. As soon as Reyn laid eyes on the man, she stiffened. I could see the muscles in her jaw clench, and her body was as tightly strung as a bow string. Leliana put her arm on her shoulder, but for once Reyn's eyes were not on her. They were firmly fixed on the man that destroyed her life, and took away the people that meant the most to her. I swear I saw flames burning in her eyes. When she spoke to Howe, her voice was as cold as ice, and it was apparent that she only had a thin sliver of control over her emotions. I shared a glance with Wynne; the floodgates were dangerously close to opening. Loghain and Howe accused the Cousland family of being traitors to both the crown, and Ferelden. They promised that all of our treachery would be revealed, and that the vote would be theirs. It got to be too much for our leader; her tenuous control snapped like the crack of a whip. Reyn exploded, her fiery words laced with copious amounts of hate and anger, with an undercurrent of pain. She lunged at Howe, intent on claiming his life as penance for her parents. Leliana and Alistair held her back; she fought against their hold like a beast possessed. The villains just smirked, and insinuated that was the reason why we would not win; they made it sound like she was unstable. Eamon said a hasty, stone-faced goodbye, and we quickly departed before a scene was made.

Reyn…was beside herself. Her body trembled, and the normally put together warrior had been reduced to a broken young woman who had lost her family. She broke down in Leliana's arms, wrapping her up in strong arms and letting the bard be her pillar. The rest of us stood silently and awkwardly to the side, feeling a crushing amount of sympathy for our friend. But no amount of consoling words would ease the pain, that I was sure of. So, I did what I do best: I used humor to effectively lighten the oppressing mood that hung over us. I walked over to the entwined women, sliding my arm around the Warden's shoulder. I told her to cheer up; Howe and Loghain both would get what was coming to them. I then maybe mentioned a hundred or so ways to go about making them pay, all colorful and slightly (very) violent. Soon, the racking sobs transformed to slight chuckles, then full belly laughs. Reyn thanked me, eyes sparkling again. Woe to Howe when they run into each other again. His lifespan just got shortened.

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We went back to the sprawling estate, eager to decompress after such a trying confrontation. Of course, people do not seem to comprehend a gaggle of heroes taking a break. When we arrived back at Eamon's estate, a maid of Elvish descent was waiting for us. The woman, who we found out was named Erlina, was the personal handmaiden to Queen Anora. Boy did that shock us when we found out. Why on earth would a personal servant of Loghain's daughter be here, and looking so harried and worried. Well, the woman told us that Anora had grown suspicious of her father and his dealings. She suspected that he played a significant part in her husband's death at Ostagar. She confronted Arl Howe (smart, lady. No wonder you are a queen…who married Cailan) and spewed her misgivings to him. Unsurprisingly, he viewed her as a traitor to not only her father but a threat to their plans, and locked her up like a glorified prisoner. Erlina feared that she would be dead soon, if we did not rescue her. We all shared misgivings on this; it was just too convenient. Anora was Loghain's own flesh and blood; would she really be willing to risk alienating herself from him, and potentially holding the executioner's axe? Because there was no doubt in my mind that Reyn and Alistair would not spare Loghain. Their mutual hatred ran too deep; it was far too personal. But, as Eamon reluctantly stated, we did not really have much of a choice. Our hands were metaphorically tied. Reyn agreed to attempt to rescue Anora. She picked Leliana, Morrigan and myself to go. Alistair was completely opposed to that; he wanted to accompany us. But, like Reyn said, he was to be the future king. We could not risk his life, not when the stakes were too high. She chose Morrigan because she was younger than Wynne and a powerful mage, and Leli and I are used to stealth. This mission is exactly up our alley.

We left our gear in our individual rooms, and assumed simple longswords and shields befitting Howe's guards. Leliana's and my daggers, as well as Morrigan's staff were put in a backpack, chosen for its inconspicuous look. We quickly donned the disguises Erlina provided, and set off. We arrived at the Arl of Denerim's estate, viewing a small mass at the front doors, yelling and banging on the reinforced oaken doors. Thankfully, our presence was not made known, and we slipped past their notice with relative ease. We walked around the side of the castle, ducking when a guard looked our way. We made our way around to the other side, spying two guards standing in front of our only way in. Erlina told us she would distract them while we hid off to the side. Then, entry would be gained. The plan went off without a hitch, and we were in the estate. The elf warned us to stay as incognito as possible, and not let the guards look at us too closely. We nodded our heads, and set off to find Anora. There were several close calls, especially with the girls. Their beauty garnered much attention from the males. I was able to help fend them off, and no alarms were sounded. We walked through several rooms and different hallways, until we were at the door leading to the queen. Unfortunately, Howe had a mage seal the door, so she could not get out until the mage that cast it was dead. The mage would be with Howe, in the dungeons. A glint appeared in Reyn's eyes at the mention of seeing Howe face to face. Revenge shined clearly outwards. She told both Erlina and Anora that we would be back, after taking care of the mage. We took off in the direction Erlina said the dungeons were.

We entered Howe's own quarters; nothing was amiss. The door leading to the first level of the dungeon was ajar; we knew where Howe was. In a chest next to the stairs was a swath of Grey Warden documents. Reyn snatched them up and marched down the stairs, eager to face the man who had haunted her every thought. A sole guard was down there, and was just about to call out when two burly arms wrapped around his throat from behind the steel bars. A snap resounded in the small space as the man's neck audibly snapped, and his lifeless body slumped to the floor in a boneless heap. The prisoner slowly dragged the body into the small cell with them; my companions and I were so surprised and taken aback that we just stood there slack-jawed. The sound of clothes and armor rustling brought us out of our reverie, and we readied our weapons in case it was a foe. A tall, dark-haired man stepped out in the guard's refinery, popping his back and sighing in pleasure. The prisoner happened to be a man named Riordan, a Grey Warden from Orlais. Loghain had captured him when he was sent as a lone messenger from his country when no more missives revolving Ostagar was sent. He had been stuck in there for awhile; he was definitely glad to see us. He recognized Reyn from Duncan's reports of her as a fresh-faced recruit. Reyn handed him the documents that were found in Howe's room; they contained precious information pertaining to the joining, and those Wardens that fell at Ostagar. He told us that he was going to head to Eamon's estate, and wished us luck in saving Anora. Riordan left quickly, surprising for one as broad-shouldered as he. Reyn watched him with a wistful/awed expression; she had not met many Wardens, before her world was turned upside down. She shook herself out of her stupor and focused her mind to the task; we snuck into the dungeons, eager to get out before we were caught.

There were several waves of soldiers in the dungeons; they were not very hard to take care of. Reyn had handed us our weapons as soon as we came in the dungeons, and we tossed our plain swords aside in favor of the ones we were comfortable with. Reyn hefted her own longsword, as Starfang would draw far too much attention due to the three runes embedded in the metal. We stumbled upon guards quickly, but mine and Leliana's speed, Morrigan's witchcraft, and Reyn's overall badassery vanquished all of the opponents in our way. It took mere minutes to come upon the room that housed both Howe and his mage. Reyn gestured for us to ready ourselves for a fight; blue-green eyes locked onto Morrigan's, as she would be the one to contend with the mage. For once, the snarky witch was solemn, silently promising her involvement. On the count of one…two…three! We exploded into action, limbs moving effortlessly and the door crashing open as we barreled inside. The mage looked up surprised, but Howe did not even move a muscle. He signaled with an armored arm; guards filtered in from the shadows. Damn it; they were his personal guard! Morrigan did not take her eyes off of the other mage; her staff was raised, ready to blast him with a cone of cold or a burst of flame. I sized up the guards and noticed Leliana doing the same. We calculated how much force was needed to take them down, the weak spots in their heavy-plated armor, and how to use speed to our advantage. Reyn, however, did none of her usual strategizing. Her focus was entirely on the man who had been friends with her father, killing his wife and himself when their backs were turned, unaware of the snake in their midst. Our normally calm Warden's eyes were on the vengeance beholden to her for in the months following the betrayal. The two enemies had an intense stare down; then, Howe began his taunts.

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He told Reyn, in great detail, how he ended her loved one's lives. How they had made Oriana watch as they slew Oren, laughing as her body was wracked with grief. Then, the guards killed her over the body. They tortured the injured Teyrn Cousland, forcing his wife to watch. Then they…brutalized her, before killing them both. Her hands tight around her borrowed sword, Reyn visibly shook as the horrific crimes spewed forth out of Howe's mouth, as he basked in the pain he caused her. Finally, it was clear Reyn had enough. With a battle cry fiercer than any an Ogre could howl, she lunged forward, completely disregarding all but the murderer in front of her. I shot into action, warding off the guard closest to her, my faithful dagger catching the steel before our leader could be hurt. Leliana followed suit, quickly disarming another guard and shoved her dagger in the soft point of his armor. I heard a grunt of pain, but did not turn around to see if she had killed him. I had already moved forward, engaging a second enemy. Morrigan and the mage were locked in a vicious battle, magic zooming back and forth narrowly missing us fighters. As a bolt of lightning shot past my cheek, my eyes turned briefly to that of Reyn. She was in the middle of bashing a foolish guard with her shield, finishing him off with a powerful slash to the chest afterwards. She stepped over the body, no mercy to be found. Another guard came up behind me; I ducked, the sharp swordpoint making wind caress my face from how close it had been to connecting. I parried the follow-up blow, dashing his head with the hilt. It dazed him only for a moment, but it was enough. The last thing he saw before he entered the Fade was my smiling, satisfied face. Lucky bastard. I looked up, seeing Leliana dispatch the last remaining guard. Morrigan shot a final blast of magic from her staff; the mage crumpled to the ground, very much dead. Now, all that was left was…I turned towards the battle that was happening in the center of the room. Howe and Reyn were engaged in a duel to the death; Howe swung his sword, managing to leave a shallow cut to her cheek. Ignoring the blood that ran down, she maneuvered herself in his space, shoving her sword towards his stomach. He blocked, but only just; the next sword blow would connect. He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. Crimson blood stained the floor below, like a macabre sacrifice to the Maker and the Couslands.

Leliana joined Reyn, standing at her side. She spoke lowly in her lover's ear, imploring her to find it in her heart to show mercy, or that is what I assume she was doing. Reyn must have listened, for she said a few short words to the man before beheading him swiftly. She stared at his body for a minute, soaking in her victory. She had avenged her loved ones. We exited the dungeon the way we came, leaving behind the bodies of the slain and a past rife with pain. Erlina and Anora were grateful that we returned so quickly; the door opened and we got our first glimpse of the infamous queen. She was actually rather pretty, considering who her father was. I half-expected to see horns curling up above her golden hair. She was polite in her mannerisms as well. She thanked us, and we all hauled ourselves to the nearest exit. We almost escaped, too. It seemed we walked into a trap, however. As soon as we procured Miss Anora and entered the room beyond, Ser Cauthrien was lying in wait for us with a veritable platoon of guards. Reyn informed Cauthrien that we were just rescuing the fair damsel in distress…only for said damsel to betray us to her father's crony. Cauthrien was not a happy woman; she gave Reyn an ultimatum. She could either surrender and go quietly…or we would all go down. I was ready to go down fighting, and my hand was straying over my dagger, when the unthinkable happened; our noble leader dropped her sword and said the two words that crushed our spirits and sent fear into our hearts, "I surrender." Guards scampered over to her, effectively detaining her. Other men came and grabbed us, moving us in the direction of the doors. Cauthrien, true to her word, told her men to let us go scot-free. Reyn, however…Leliana shared one last, heartfelt look with her before the one of the guards struck the Warden across her temple, knocking her unconscious. Leliana screamed, and strained against her guard. The last sight I saw before the doors closed behind us was our fearless champion lying unmoving on the ground, men swarming around her.

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It had been two days since Reyn had let herself be captured to spare us. Everyone was sick with worry; Leliana had to be pried off of Anora when we got back. She had blamed Anora for her lover's capture, and was angry enough to do real damage. It took Alistair and me to get her away from the queen, although Alistair blamed her as well. Needless to say, Anora had not really impressed herself to us. We had actually devised a plan to go and save Reyn, when a harried-looking maid ran up, catching her breath. In between pants, she informed us that Cousland had in fact arrived. Leliana sprinted out of the door, practically vaulting the stairs. There in the entryway, looking slightly pale and haggard but alive, stood Reyn Cousland. Our native bard leapt into the former prisoner's arms, holding onto her with all the strength she possessed. The rest of our companions gave them a moment, shifting eyes away from the tender scene in front of our eyes. When they had been given ample time to reconnect, we all converged on them, hugging our previously incarcerated friend. He told us how she escaped; the ingenuity was impressive. Even though she more than deserved it, there was no time for Reyn to rest. Anora, the traitor, spoke to us of unrest in the alienage. She had no clue what was going on, but if we could go scout out the problem and eliminate it, maybe we could get dirt on Loghain. Reyn was not glad to see Anora; after all, it was her fault she had been captured, and even tortured a bit. But, our gracious Warden forgave the woman, after she buttered her up a bit. Reyn had been beat around a bit, though nothing too bad. Wynne healed the little bit of wounds she possessed, and we prepped to go to the alienage and discern the problem. Reyn picked those of us that traveled with her to rescue Anora; we suited up, grabbing our trusty weapons and made our way out of the estate, intent on helping the elves' in their plight.

The guard who previously would not let us into the alienage did not bother trying to stop us. He lifted up the gate and granted us passage. The place was not exactly a four star tavern. It was like an open brothel without women…or drink. That should tell you how horrible it was. Elves were strewn about everywhere, looking ill and about as miserable as you can get. We passed by a door leading to an orphanage; a rather large puddle of blood was right outside, along with the body of a dead dog. A feral canine was a few feet away, as well as a beggar. Talking her led to the knowledge that something dark was in the place; we elected to come back later and see exactly how bad it was. In the middle of the square was a large crowd of elves, all standing outside of a building. Guards stood in front of the door; they most certainly were not elves. The crowd looked upset, and they loudly announced this fact. Two men stood in front of the guards; they called themselves "healers." Something about this was off. I did not believe these people for a minute when they blamed the strange going-ons on some kind of disease that was going around. One of the elves, a tall red-haired woman that later introduced herself as Shianni, also did not fall for the crap flooding out of these mens' mouths. But nobody else seemed to take her heated words to mind. We talked to her, trying to glean what information we could. She told us about the mysterious illness that had suddenly hit the people, and of these men coming in to cure them. However, once the elves went in, they did not come back out. I got a bad feeling when I heard this; something was definitely off. We interrogated the guards and the healers; their words were as smooth as butter, but the eyes gave them away. They shifted too often, and the light…it showed darkness. I looked to Leliana; she too had deducted the lies. It seemed Reyn had as well, even though subterfuge was not in her vocabulary due to her strict morality. We walked around the back of the hospice, seeing nobody except one lone guard. The guard happened to be an elf. This time, I took point and asked him questions. Apparently, working underneath the packs of "shems" was worth it when you had starved prior. So, I did what anybody would in my shoes; I bribed him shamelessly, and he took it. He took off, clutching the sovereigns to his chest like they were his lifeline. We entered the hospice, only to be attacked by a group of Tevinter soldiers. Well, I totally saw that coming. They were no hassle; we examined the room thoroughly, an open doorway catching our eye. Inside were quite a few cages, all holding at least one elf. Reyn motioned for me to help let them out; Morrigan and Leliana kept watch while this was going on. I suppose the hospice was soundproofed on account of the slaves, for one elf confirmed our initial suspicions. They ran home at our urging; I was beyond pissed. These were my people…my brethren. Slavery was abhorrent in general, but to do that to elves, who have already suffered years of persecution…it was beyond cruel. We headed out of the hospice, throwing the door open. It splintered against the side at the crushing blow. One guard was hit; a blow from my dagger kept his miserable hide from rising. The other guard met a similar fate from our bard. Magic from our resident witch took out one healer, while Reyn took off after the last remaining healer. Her fury really lent itself well; the healer's cruelty was swiftly cut at the steel blade. We met again with Shianni, who was floored by the appalling things we found out. She suggested we look at the building behind the alley that ran back behind the hospice. We promised we would save her friends and family. We set off, fury blackening our hearts.

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Slavery was definitely going on here; we found signs of the Tevinter soldiers taking families, and one sick elf spilled his guts, nervously looking around for the Tevinter. We thanked him, promising no harm would befall him. The door at the end of the hallway let out to another alleyway. Tevinter men were here to intercept us. We gave them a jolly greeting. Morrigan lit their arses on fire. Charred Tevinter, anyone? The door leading to the building was opened slowly, so as to not draw attention. However, a female elf with a barrage of guards intercepted us. Words were exchanged, and the others wound up dead. What? Like you all did not expect that to happen. They were not very talented, obviously. Room after room after room was perused and traversed, leaving naught in our wake but dead carcasses, rivers of blood and the scent of our hunt. Mabari warhounds had nothing on us. A large, circular room was at the end. More Tevinter guards were scattered in here, as well as the ringleader. He was a mage, and propositioned us; for just a hundred sovereigns, he would sell us a letter with Loghain's seal, incriminating him in slave trade usage of elves. Reyn spoke what we all were thinking, a resounding no. The man acted all put out, saying he wished it did not need to come to violence. He sent his followers after us; it took some doing, but they were all…indisposed. The mage shot magic balls at us, narrowly missing Reyn. She wove in and out of the magic beams, attacking the man. She cut a gash in his chest; he begged for his life, saying he would drain the life of the remaining elves and increase her own power, if she let him live. Reyn's eyes were cold as she stared at the cowering mage before her in disgust. In no uncertain terms, she told him to rot in the Fade. He quickly got a taste of his own medicine when she plunged her blade into his chest, ending his reign as a slaver. As an added bonus, the slaver documents were procured off of his body. Now we had the proof of Loghain's involvement in the slave chain.

After the elves in the room were freed, one of them being Cyrion, we returned to Shianni. She was ecstatic that most of the elves were saved, but saddened that there were some that had already been transported out of the Alienage. Those poor elves faced unimaginable horrors at the hands of their slavers; disgust roiled through my body as I thought of the atrocities that had gone on. Unfortunately, we did not have long to bask in the elves' adulation. We had a Landsmeet to crash, and a tyrant to take down. We said goodbye to Shianni; I especially let my eyes linger on her. She was…pretty amazing. She alone held out hope in her people, and did not take crap from shems, or anybody else. Not to mention, her feisty red-head temper was insanely attractive…ah, if only there was not a Blight pressing in on us. Maybe…once this is over, I can travel here again and try. Anyway, we left to go back to Eamon, informing him of our findings. He was appalled at the slavery that had gone on under everyone's noses, but delighted that we had evidence that implicated Loghain. He told us to rest up; tomorrow, things would change for either better…or worse.

The next morning, we gathered up our gear and made sure our weapons were ship-shape. Alistair and Reyn were wearing spotless, state-of-the-art armor that Eamon had them pick out, in order to keep up appearances at the Landsmeet. They needed to look the part of king/Grey Warden respectively. Alistair had Maric's blade strapped to his back; we had found it when we returned to Ostagar a month prior. Duncan's shield was also strapped to his back, which was in amazing condition. It had been found in the warehouse, in a secret place. It had not been with Duncan when he fell. Reyn, although fond of Starfang, had swapped it out for her family sword and a shield of Highever; she was a Cousland, and wielding the equipment worn by the honorable family, Eamon hoped, would garner us some sympathy points. We would need everything we could get to take down Loghain. I put on a set of fine leather armor; it would protect me from forceful blows, and yet it would not restrict movement. My favorite daggers were strapped to my belt. Shale would attend in addition to the rest of us, but she would stand guard in the hall, just out of sight. Everyone in the group would be in attendance. Things could go horribly wrong in an instant; defense was of the utmost importance. As a unit, we marched to the palace, ready to win the Landsmeet. The doors opened, admitting us into the folds. However, we found our way barred by none other than Ser Cauthrien, the one who had been instrumental in Reyn's capture, and Loghain's right-hand…woman. She was accompanied by a small force of guards; all were well-armed. She told us that she would not allow entry to a band of traitors, not when we threatened the peace and unity of Ferelden. Peace and unity? Does this woman live underneath a rock? I was surprised when Reyn tried to reason with her. She informed Cauthrien that she held no hard feelings for the brief torture she had undergone, nor the woman standing beside Loghain and abandoning her and the others at Ostagar. Cauthrien was honorable, she said. Just following the man that gave her the life she had always strove for. Reyn and Cauthrien had actually, before her family's tragic betrayal, been good friends. However, when Cauthrien had saved Loghain from bandits, she had been whisked away to a life of knighthood; her dream.

Cauthrien's loyalty did not appear to waver. Her hand came up to rest on the hilt of her sword, the famed Summer Sword. She was ready to draw it, when Reyn appealed to her one last time before blood could be shed. She pleaded her to remember all the good times they shared, the times spent out in the sun, swinging swords and drinking cool water in flagons. How their dreams had intertwined, forging a strong friendship. Reyn agreed that Loghain, once upon a time, had been a great man and a hero to all. But, somehow, something had changed the man and made him betray his king, and his friend's son. She told Cauthrien that if she stood down and let us enter without killing them all, she would do her best to spare Loghain. Alistair protested loudly at this; not all of the others were very pleased either. Cauthrien shrewdly looked at the Warden, stared deep into her eyes. The knight dropped her hand from her weapon, relinquishing her previous control. She told Reyn she would stand aside; she only asked that she try her very best at keeping Loghain alive. Whatever he had become, he was like a father to her. Reyn nodded her fiery head, and then did something that gob smacked everyone, most of all Ser Cauthrien: She walked forward and wrapped her arms around the knight. Slowly, hesitatingly, Cauthrien returned the hug, burying her face in the Warden's neck. Leliana's ice-blue eyes locked onto the hugging warriors; if looks could kill, Cauthrien would be incinerated. Reyn let her go, and with a final goodbye we entered the interior.

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The sounds of Loghain blowing smoke out of his posterior droned on and on, reaching our ears as we sidled up. Immediately, he attacked Reyn and Alistair, especially involving Ostagar. He blamed them for King Cailan's death and absolved his own behind a façade of sadness and his "unwillingness" to leave Cailan behind but felt it needed to be done. Reyn was remarkably calm; she countered his words with the true version, ignoring his supporters who decided to boo. Yes, nobles booing. Leadership at its finest. Loghain had the nerve to chuckle darkly, denying our claims. He trashed Alistair's parentage; that is to say, denied that Alistair could be Maric's. Even if he was, he was a bastard, certainly not worthy of the crown. Alistair spoke up then, saying although he was a bastard son, he still had Therein blood coursing through his blood. That, and he was no traitor to his country. Reyn quickly paired that with the claim of his hand in trading elves for payment from Tevinter men. Shocked gasps were heard around the room; again, Loghain denied any involvement. However, the Warden flashed the documents, handing them around to the nobles so they could see his official seal stamped on the side. She also used the documents given to me that were used to officiate my assassination contract. Murmuring from the nobles resounded, and heads shook in disgust and disbelief. Their hero was not looking so heroic right about now. Anora again surprised everyone, siding with us and calling her father a changed man. In order to save face, the regent started to discredit us companions; defacing me as an assassin, calling Morrigan an apostate, and insinuating Leliana was gaining information to send back to Orlais. He even stooped so low as to call her a whore. Reyn's eyes flashed darkly, and it was apparent that he had hit a nerve. The anger in her voice was thinly veiled, and her attacks on his character grew more vicious. The mud-slinging continued, growing nastier at the passage of time. Eamon, who had worked the crowd before we arrived, looked panicked. He could tell Reyn was close to attacking the man, and that would not exactly endear us to the nobles. He chimed in, throwing in some useful tidbits. Soon, it was time to count the votes. The two opponents faced each other, daggers shooting from their eyes.

One noble immediately gave us his vote; another also lent his voice to ours. The next pompous arse sided with Loghain; the man smirked confidently. The votes went back and forth, neck and neck. Finally, the last noble came up. He looked at both candidates gravelly, before nodding his wizened head. He gave us his answer: the Warden and Alistair had indeed gotten his support. We were victorious; Alistair had won the Landsmeet, and his bloodline would again hold the crown. Anora had a large smile as well. She had agreed to marry Alistair and make their union a stronger candidacy to the throne. However, that was not the outcome Loghain wanted, or expected. He challenged Alistair to a duel. Eamon protested, as we had already won. But Mother Something-or-Other had acquiesced, declaring it within the right of the regent. Alistair stepped forward to face the man, but Reyn put her hand on his armored shoulder. She looked into his eyes, slowly shaking her head. He stood back, giving into her wishes. She loudly announced that she would fight as King Alistair's champion. Then, the two combatants moved into position. As one, we all held bated breath, waiting for the match to start. They walked around each other, staring down their opponent. Loghain unsheathed his sword, the light dancing on the silver. Reyn followed his lead, the Cousland sword a beacon of her beliefs and ideals. Reyn leapt at the corrupted regent, slashing hard at his side. He easily countered the blow, swinging his wrist and dealing his own. Reyn, too, deflected the swing and pranced back. She looked as cool and confident as ever, except for the tightening around her eyes. A backhand stab was her response; he parried and swung out with his heavy shield. The metal connected with her shoulder, almost wrenching it from its socket. To her credit, she did not make a sound of pain, nor did it hinder her concentration. Her sword flashed, crashing against the opposing blade. Her shield shot out, catching him in the face. Dazed, he moved back a pace or two. Taking advantage, she burst forward, intent on ending the fight. Loghain nimbly dodged for a man of his size, and his sword shot out, cutting a path across Reyn's tanned cheek. It looked like it would scar.

Steel moved against steel, sparks literally flew in the air, dissipating as they touched the ground. Reyn managed to graze Loghain's side; he clutched at the wound, obviously in pain. But he held his ground, nicking our leader several times. One hit connected, gouging deep into her shoulder. Reyn's face scrunched up in pain, but she refused to falter. The pommel of her sword hit Loghain's temple, pushing him back. He groaned; she moved in for the kill. With a mighty swing, using only the flat of her blade, she smacked the tyrant hard across the face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. Another attack was fixing to commence, but he yielded, accepting that she was too skilled, even for him. Reyn, although still angry, accepted. Alistair called for his death, but Reyn refused. She had given her word to Cauthrien, and was not about to take it back. He argued a bit, a heated look in his normally jovial eyes, but he eventually conceded to her wit. But, Loghain did not like that idea. He stood to his full height, an imposing figure in his armor. He had lost to Reyn, and been shamed. He had nothing left to go on for. His guilt was crushing him; he did the only thing he could do. He charged at Reyn, intent on killing her if she did not end his life. Footsteps were heard, and a massive sword glinted. The blade tore through Loghain's armor, fatally impaling him. Blood dribbled from his gaping mouth; he gasped for breath, slowly sliding to the floor. Anora ran to him, gathering her father into her arms. Reyn looked to the side; Cauthrien stood, sword still raise and covered with blood. Her eyes were shadowed, and tears hid just underneath the surface. She had given the man what he wanted. Struggling to talk, Loghain told his daughter not to cry, or worry. He apologized, and told Cauthrien that she was his other daughter. He did not blame her; he was so proud. With his dying breath, Loghain made Reyn promise to defeat the archdemon, stop the Blight, and save Ferelden. She solemnly nodded, eyes lowering slightly in a show of respect. He shook his head, a grateful movement. He died a moment later, with a smile upon his bloodied lips.

People cheered for Reyn and Alistair; we all congratulated one another on a job well-done. Now, the only thing that stood in our way was the Blight itself. We did not stay for very long; soon, we packed our bags and headed back to Redcliffe to prepare for battle. Eamon was pleased, and so was Bann Teagan when he received the good news. Unfortunately, our happiness was cut short. Riordan had sent news; Darkspawn were marching to Denerim. They would be there in mere days. Everybody was in a panic; so soon? And at the capitol? Things had taken a turn for the worse. Eamon consulted Reyn; she, and Alistair, thought our best bet was to have a night of rest and tomorrow morning we would march to the capitol and embrace what the Maker set before us. Before retiring to bed, I heard Riordan ask to speak the Wardens about private matters. I did not think much of it, tiredly heading to bed. I put out my equipment for the next day, sharpening my blades to perfection. Now, I must sleep my friends. For tomorrow we become heroes, whether dead or alive. Anything can happen, and should I die and this be my last entry…well, I went out like I have always wanted. Thank you dear readers for staying by my side this long, and my companions for putting up with me. For better or worse…tomorrow will be the dawn of change.

Farewell (perhaps for the final time),

Zevran, the heroic assassin

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	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: Well this is it folks; the last chapter of Zevran's Journal. It has been a long, fantastic journey. A big, heartfelt thank you to all that has reviewed/favorite/or even just read this series. My writing is in conjunction with ya'lls feedback. I cannot take credit for this story; it would not have continued past the first chapter if not for you, the readers. So again, thank you and I hope you enjoy this last offering from our dear elf. Happy reading!

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It has been three days since the battle that changed everything. Three long, surreal days since the archdemon was slain at the hands of the Warden and the Blight ended. Peace, the one thing everyone hoped for but was afraid would be lost, had suddenly become a very real goal, well within sight. These last few days, I have moved as if in a dream. I never believed I would make it out anything other than dead, and I find myself at a loss. What do you do when you have done the impossible? Will I be good at anything other than the Crows or a member of the group that saved Ferelden? Can these hands that wield a dagger so well do anything other than killing? I do not have an answer to that question.

Parties, revelries…they have been going on for days. The very best wines and ales have been brought out, toasting to our good fortune and to the heroic Warden that saved us all. It has been a time of happiness, and relief, and thankful of the men and women that made it out alive. But, it has not been just partying and reveling in our new and bright future. Not everybody made it out of the battle alive. Many good people died fighting for this country. The day after the final battle, we laid to rest all the fallen soldiers that made the ultimate sacrifice. Ser Perth, the valiant knight we had encountered at Redcliffe…Ser Cauthrien, who had died getting the redemption she craved so hard for…_Reyn_…As I sit and write this, the battle is so vivid, so clear in my memory. I see it all as if it is happening right now, before my eyes…

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It is the morning of the battle. I had just awakened from a restless sleep, an unfamiliar nervousness settling behind my navel. This…this day would change everything: either we would win and put the archdemon away for good, or we would all fall to the Darkspawn horde. Not very sure how to exactly describe my feelings on that. I stretched out my muscles, working out the unbearable tension between my shoulder blades. I had placed my clothes and armor for the day off to the side on a small little oaken table. I dressed slowly, savoring the feel of the cloth tunic against my skin. I then painstakingly buckled up my leather armor fashioned specifically for the battle ahead. My hands moved deftly, brushing every surface I could in order to remember it. If I am to die today, I want to feel everything one final time. I slid on the Antivan boots and Dalish gloves Reyn had gifted me with over our travels, enjoying the texture, the feel, of the pliable leather on my skin, warming it to my body temperature.

My eyes closed, inhaling the crisp air of clean linen and fine wood that permeated the entire room. I stood there in the center of the room, feeling a longing like I have ever known. To win this battle, to see my friends all survive to see a new day dawning…to live. A shuddering breath escaped my mouth in a rush, audible in the room. I could hear the sounds of the other men getting ready outside the door; heavy footfalls echoing on the wooden floors, armor clanking loudly against each other, weapons brushing against walls, and bodies…it signaled my time had come. I grasped my two daggers, eyeing them. I have had these two blades since I became an Antivan Crow all those years ago. They have been beside me far longer than any other; they are as much a part of me as the Mabari is to the Warden. The silver shines in the faint light, giving me a certain amount of solace. I sheathe them reverently and belt them to my leather armor. The click it made when it locked sounded more final and symbolic than anything else could. Taking one last look at my room, I vacated it and closed the door behind me. In doing so, I closed the door on my insecurities, and on my past. The future awaits.

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I departed from the room I had resided in for the night and made my way to the sprawling stairs. Guards rushed about, harried and somber. I witnessed one of the older knights reassuring a group of youngsters who looked positively terrified. They were among those that would be accompanying us to Denerim. I hope they make it back to tell the story, and not become just another casualty in this bloody war. I passed plenty more armored men and descended the stairs. My boot touched the ground after the last stair, and I soon spotted the others. Shale stood off in the corner, cracking her large stone knuckles together and murmuring all the ways she would crush the Darkspawn, and then squish any pigeons once they were all dead. Definitely steered clear of her. I would rather die during the battle, not at Redcliffe Castle before it even starts. Oghren was a little ways off, brandishing a flask containing some potent and vile alcoholic mixture that he seems to like. The red-haired dwarf belched, smacking his lips appreciatively. When he saw me watching, he saluted sloppily. I noticed the fine dwarven armor Bodahn and Sandal had crafted for him. Sandal had even imbued the other dwarf's axe with a Grandmaster Flame Rune. The flames danced around the metal, burning only the metal but protecting the dwarf. Wynne stood beside Senior Enchanter Irving, who had gathered his mages and made it to Redcliffe. They would be marching with us. Both mages looked weary, yet determined. They had foregone their usual magicky robes in favor of light armor imbued with all manner of runes and spells. Wynne's silver armor glowed with bright blue lines that ran all around the armor. It was supposed to enhance her abilities, so I was told. A brand new staff was firmly ensconced in her hand. I believe she called it the Staff of the Magister Lord. It certainly looked more than capable.

Alistair, the future king, stood close to Bann Teagan. The normally jovial Grey Warden was unusually serious, and his amber eyes held a deep sadness. The sadness threw me a bit; it was like he knew somebody for sure was going to die, somebody close to him. He was clad in King Maric's old armor, wielding both Duncan's shield and sword. It seemed he wanted to fight in this battle wearing pieces from the two most important men in his life. His father and the man who was more like a father than Maric. The former king would have been proud, I think. I followed the amber eyes, lighting on our leader. Reyn wore the Warden-Commander ensemble we found off of Sophia Dryden's possessed corpse. It had been shined and worked on until it looked brand new. On her back lay a shield of Highever, a tribute to the place of her upbringing and her dead family. Starfang was sheathed as well; lightning and flames roiled across the one-of-a-kind blue steel, making blue-green eyes shine. Her fiery hair was slightly mussed, and her face was haggard. It was obvious her sleep was also troubled. Beside her, Leliana stood dressed in the drakeskin armor Wade had made specifically for her, at Reyn's request. It fit her like a second skin, and allowed her to move freely without hindrance. Her trusty bow was strapped to her back with her quiver beside it. Her own two daggers lay sheathed at her hips, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Her normally lovely face was pinched with worry, and her blue gaze kept returning to Reyn's face. Something was definitely going on with our Warden.

Her faithful Mabari hound Raines was pawing around Sten, who was standing tall and formidable in a massive set of armor he had procured. Asala lay strapped to his massive back, and a giant metal shield was companion to it. All of the companions were accounted for, all except…Morrigan was nowhere to be found. I voiced my concern, vaguely wondering if the swamp witch had decided to beautify herself before the bloodshed ahead. Reyn's eyes hardened at my inquiry, and she seemed to be biting her tongue. In a dull, tight voice she explained that Morrigan was not going to be accompanying us to Denerim, or taking place in the battle. I was shocked; I knew Morrigan was not exactly a gentle soul, and I had always figured she had an ulterior motive for joining us on our quest, but actually leaving us the night before we went off to fight? That was low, even for her. I could see the betrayal in the other's faces, although they disguised it behind masks and false words. Ice blue eyes were deadlocked on the Warden; I could see Leliana's thoughts turning as she wondered when Reyn would have found out Morrigan had left, and why she was not told sooner. My own wheels were turning. There had to be a reason Morrigan left, and left at the time she did. Reyn's behavior and the witch's leave were too close to be coincidental. Something went down between them. But, what?

I did not have time to ponder the question. Arl Eamon had joined us, dressed suitably in armor and bedecked with both sword and shield. A helm was held in his head, ready to place it on at the right moment. It was decided that Bann Teagan would remain at Redcliffe with a small force of knights. The walls of the castle were strong, and it was pretty isolated so it would be easier to protect the place with only a small contingent of knights. Eamon asked his brother to take care of his wife and son, who would stay at the castle until we (hopefully) returned. Teagan gave his word, and Eamon gave the signal for the senior officers to ready the men. The men in charge snapped to attention, swiftly moving off and commanding their liege's to form up in ranks. We readied ourselves as well. The march would be quick and forced. It was not going to be an easy feat, getting to Denerim in time before the horde. Leliana had left Schmooples with Connor, asking the young mage to take good care of her bunny-pig. The boy was enthralled by the creature, and gave his solemn word that he would protect it. Raines would be traveling with us; Reyn would not part with her beloved warhound, and neither would he. Shale also left her pet rock Rocky whom Reyn had given her as a gift. Don't ask, it is both amusing and somewhat confusing. We all said our goodbyes to those that were staying to defend the castle. They might not be in the major battle, but fighting would most definitely take place here. Teagan shook each and every one of our hands. Surprising us all, he drew Reyn into a hug when she moved to clasp hands. He asked that she take care of herself, and come back alive. Our fearless leader smiled weakly, giving him a reply that even a wee babe could tell was false. Nobody was paying the exchange too much close attention except for the bard and myself. Our eyes simultaneously narrowed, sensing something amiss.

We were not given the chance to enquire more. Eamon motioned for us to head outside, so we all followed. All the knights of Redcliffe were assembled out in the courtyard. The collective armor gleamed in the early sunlight, bouncing off the weapons and helms. Eamon said a few words, and we set off, not having the luxury of dallying around. The gates slowly closed behind us, signaling that the battle was soon to begin. The pace we set was brutal, especially considering on the weight that we all were forced to carry. Before very long, I was covered in sweat. My shield felt heavy on my back, and even my daggers seemed to sag my body down. But we pushed on, knowing that to stop could mean the end of the war. Messages had already been sent to the other factions. The mages were already with us, and the Dalish and dwarves would meet us just before Denerim. We ran into a couple of small concentrated Darkspawn groups, but they did not take much time in killing them. They went down easily, paving the way for us. We made excellent progress on the first day, covering over half the ground to Denerim. We set up camp in a large clearing, setting up an interchangeable watch so that everyone got an equal amount of rest. I was one of the ten chosen for first watch. I sat beside Reyn, the only other guard that I personally knew. I had an ulterior motive for sitting beside her; I wanted answers desperately. I nonchalantly asked her about her feelings on the matter at hand; if she thought we'd win, did she think all of our companions would make it out alive, what her plans for the future were. She answered each in stride, but I could tell she was distracted. Her eyes looked out into the night, glowing luminously. I slyly turned the conversation over to the events of last night. When I said Morrigan's name flippantly, her eyes moved to mine sharply. She asked what I was playing at by asking all this; I decided to give up the pretense and get straight to the point. I knew something had to have gone down between Morrigan and Reyn Yeah, Morrigan could be a cruel, insensitive witch but leaving the night before a major battle? It just did not add up. Morrigan had to have asked something completely horrible, and Reyn, being noble and infallibly good, declined. But the sadness I saw in her eyes…it did not fit to simple betrayal. The witch had to have had a darn good proposition to even get Reyn to consider the idea. But, what could possibly be good enough that would make Reyn even think about dismissing her scruples?

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Reyn told me everything…well, she omitted some of the details, but I got the most of it. Apparently, Morrigan had joined the Warden and Alistair in the beginning because she had a plan she needed to ask, and Reyn was the one that had to answer. It had been Flemeth's plan all along; that did not surprise me any. Morrigan did not believe her mother truly dead, and was still going through with the original mission. Reyn would not tell me what the proposition was that gave her pause, only that it was an enticing offer that would have saved her future grief. Her answer sent warning bells to my head. Saved her future grief…that sounded ominous indeed. I wanted to question her further, but she closed herself off. Any attempts at conversation containing Morrigan and her offer was ignored or given brusque, uninformative answers. The rest of our shift we sat quietly side by side, my observant eyes taking in every movement of her eyes and body, looking for a clue. There was none to be had. Our relief watch came and took over. I walked over to my designated spot for the night. I watched Reyn head over towards Leliana's prone body. The Warden took off her sword and shield, laying them well within reach should need of them arise. Them, she pressed her body up against her lover's, encircling her arms around the thin waist. The fiery bard snuggled closer to the chest presented before her, nuzzling against Reyn. Seeing the loving movement made my throat uncharacteristically tighten. I swallowed the lump in my throat rather painfully. I vowed then and there that I would do everything in my power to make sure those two never parted. They deserved happiness, away from the Blight and darkness. They would live, damn it. They had too…

I lay down after that, sleep creeping upon me with swift wings. The next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken awake by a fellow knight. I nodded to the dark-haired man, gathering my supplies quickly. Soon afterwards, when all was awake, we set off again for Denerim. The sun was not yet up fully, and the air was brisk and invigorating. It wiped the last vestiges of sleep off of my countenance, for which I was grateful. We doubled our pace, wanting to reach Denerim quickly in order to win this Blight. By late afternoon, we had arrived. The gates of Denerim loomed in front of us. Smoke and fire burned high, lighting up the sky. We assembled closer, stopping in organized ranks before actually entering the besieged city. Alistair strode up to the front of the masses, standing tall and commanding before his disciples. He looked every bit the king he was, but still retained his Grey Warden persona as well. He was the embodiment of the two. He gave a rousing speech, instilling courage and pride in the nervous men before him, turning the rabble into warriors worthy of the Ferelden name. The speech was short, sweet, and energizing. Alistair used Reyn to aid him as well. He mentioned her bravery and strength, and the assembled fighters cheered. The woman was a blasted hero, and she was the living symbol of victory and freedom. Cousland herself said few words, but the ones she did gave much impact. Her eyes were alight with the fervor of battle, and when she drew Starfang holding it aloft while roaring the Grey Warden battle-cry alongside Alistair…it was beyond words. As soon as their joined weapons flashed up, we were off. We burst inside, colliding with the first waves of Darkspawn. Dead bodies lay scattered around, both dressed in the garb indigenous to Denerim and that which the Darkspawn claimed.

I darted forward, vaulting over a burning beam that housed a severed head, slamming my dagger into the head of a brute. Another came at me, a blood-splattered axe racing towards my unprotected head. I jerked to the side, feeling the air swish around my head as the sharp blade narrowly missed cleaving my head off. Now that would have been a shame. I pivoted, cutting a swath across the exposed throat. The thing gurgled as it came down, crumpling to the ground. I cut another down as it leapt at me, shaking my head while tutting. I looked to my right; Wynne was busy healing an injured guard who was lying upon the ground, moaning in pain. Leliana was covering her, shooting volley after volley of vicious arrows at any who dare come in their vicinity. Sten and Raines were fighting side by side, cleaving furrows through the Darkspawn. I shook my head; that partnership always confused me. Oghren was off by himself; the drunken dwarf was swinging his massive dwarven creation around wildly, cackling madly to himself as each body fell down. Damn, if alcohol does that, I need to start drinking more. Shale was too busy pulverizing anything within reach with her massive fists; needless to say, everybody except the Darkspawn kept a wide berth. Reyn and Alistair were proving an effective team; Starfang twirled through the air, killing two hulking behemoths in one swoop while Alistair smashed another with his shield, letting Reyn cut more down. They did this little trick back and forth, the bodies piling up around them. Our soldiers were running around, decimating any Darkspawn in the way. Soon, nothing was left except for bodies.

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Riordan came running up to us, an indeterminate look passing across his handsome face. The native Orlesian Warden told us of his plan; there were two Darkspawn generals, in opposite directions. One was located in the market district, while the other was in the Alienage. While we took out those top-ranking individuals, he would seek out the archdemon and try to end the Blight quickly. He asked Reyn and Alistair that, if he should fall, they continue the mission and finish the demon. His brown eyes bore into Reyn; I got the sense that he was talking to her mainly, and Alistair was just part of the ruse. Alistair averted his eyes, seeming uncomfortable. Reyn did not falter; she met Riordan's deep brown optics with her own. She told him she would take care of it, if he did indeed perish. Satisfied, he nodded. He held out his hand and shook our leader's own in a tight grip. With one final goodbye, he turned and ran in the direction of the gates leading deeper into Ferelden's heart. Not a moment later, a messenger came bounding up to us. His tan skin glistened, and he took a deep breath. He relayed to us that a coalition of our enemies had indeed taken refuge in the market; ogres were abound there. The Alienage was fine, for now. The market needed our urgent attention. Reyn thanked the man, and he went to join the ranks of defenders that would guard the gate. The general in charge of the force had been killed in battle; none of the other men qualified. They looked absolutely terrified at the loss of leadership. Reyn looked at Sten, assessing his strong body with a practiced eye. Turning back towards the soldiers, she declared that Sten would be in charge. He was a seasoned Qunari, and had plenty of experience leading men into battle. Sten approved, readying his blade. Oghren was also asked to help, due to his own experience and prowess with an axe. The dwarf belched and gave his oath to protect Denerim as best he could from being entered by even more Darkspawn.

Just before we all moved off to deal with the generals, Sten and Oghren said a few words, as this could very well be the last time we all saw each other in one piece. They saved Reyn for last, as she was the glue that held us all together. Sten placed a massive hand on her shoulder, staring at her with respect. He called her kadan, and told her he had never met another warrior like her, and doubted it would ever happen again. When he returned to his land, he would tell his Arishok just what kind of woman she was. From Sten, that said a lot. Reyn placed her hand over his, squeezing it before letting her hand fall. She thanked him profusely, and told him he had better be careful. Oghren…he was a surprise. For once, the drunken axe-wielder was solemn. Gruffly, he told Reyn that she had saved him. He knew he could be a handful at times, (understatement of the age, that) but she had given his life new meaning; a purpose. She had granted the man a chance at love again, with Felsi. Oghren made the Warden say she would come back alive, or the dwarf would personally have her resurrected, only to kill her again. Chuckling slightly, she agreed. She patted his shoulder a final time, and with our goodbyes already done, the rest of us headed the way Riordan had done. As I ran, all I could do was hope that Sten and Oghren would make it out alive.

Everything was utter chaos. We all ran past the various forces, both our side and not, that were all grappling together in an effort to get the upper hand. We slew a few on the way, but our main goal was to get to those generals. Our first destination was the market, where a bunch of ogres had decided to start a coalition. Well, they would soon find that we are not as easy as the others. Soon, we had made it to the market…which was surprisingly deserted. That could not be a good sign. I shared a glance with Leliana; she knew as well as I that silence where there was supposed to be sound never boded well. Raines whimpered, tossing his head around in distress. Reyn looked at him, scratching his ears in order to comfort the hound. She looked around at us all, sizing up the numbers. There was Wynne, Reyn herself, Leliana, myself, Raines, and Shale. Alistair had also decided to accompany us. That made seven. Sten and Oghren would have been valuable up against ogres, and Morrigan's magic would definitely have evened the score, but we would make due. She signaled for Wynne to put up a shield around the mage, protecting her so she could peacefully shoot lightning bolts and flames at the missing Darkspawn. She crooked her finger again, putting Alistair beside her. They would rely on their strength and shields; Leli and I would be swifter and lighter. Shale and Raines would also use force to bring down our foes. As one tightly formed unit, we moved forward. The market was bombarded by flames, eating hungrily at the buildings they resided on. Our feet barely made a sound; even our armor was remarkably silent. Suddenly, a loud crack was heard to our left, combined with a roar that sent shivers down my spine. An ogre burst from around the corner, shaking its massive horns in our direction. Another ogre came around the opposite corner. The Hurlock General we were searching for appeared a bit behind the other ogre, cackling to itself. It lifted its axe high in the air, scything it down. As soon as the axe dropped, the ogres charged at us. Reyn yelled for Shale and Raines to help protect Wynne, as her shield could only hold so much force before it shattered. The two leapt to do their bidding, while the rest of us faced the ogres head on. Leliana drew her bow and shot arrows at it, running around in order to distract it from her position. I ran in, slashing at it with my daggers before dancing away. Alistair and Reyn faced one each, head-on. The Warden smashed her ogre with the heavy shield, dazing it for a moment. Her sword arced down, slicing a deep furrow in the purple cheek. Fluffy, as it turns out, did not appreciate that. The ogre swung a gigantic fist at our brave, fiery leader. She was fast, but not quite fast enough. One of the nails on the fist clipped her cheek, leaving a long, jagged cut on the tan skin. She shrugged off the pain, attacking without missing a beat. I came to her aid, quickly vaulting and jumping on the ogre's back. I stabbed the purple back with my dagger, holding onto it for dear life. Reyn kept up her ground attacks; eventually, it wore the massive beast down. It fell to its knees, shaking the ground. Running hard with a glint in her eyes, Reyn dashed forward and buried her sword into the exposed chest. The beast took one more breath, before collapsing to the ground. It was quite dead, thankfully.

Reyn and I took a breather. I lifted my sweaty head up, watching as Alistair and Leliana took down the other ogre. It fell in a similar heap, adding to the body count that was growing ever stronger. I turned my gaze towards the general. It did not seem fazed; instead, it made more signals. Several more ogres decided to make an appearance. Whew, am I getting my exercise. Minutes passed, as we fought wave after wave of the giant Darkspawn. Finally we had killed them all; we looked to see where that general had gone off to. A flash of silver caught my eyes and I shouted at our Warden to watch out. She whirled around, catching the axe with Starfang just in time. Her eyes were locked onto the high-ranking Darkspawn, hatred burning deep within. She used all her strength to push the foe back, throwing up her shield in order to catch it off guard. It bounced harmlessly off the general; it seemed to be amused for a moment. However, a well-placed arrow by Leliana stopped the sound. With a sound of anger, it charged at our warrior, trying to take a chunk out of her. Cousland ducked down, her head barely missing the steel blade. She twisted, her sword shooting out. It managed to land a hit against the armored shoulder of the general, but for the most part it was unfazed. It aimed a punch at her, catching her in the jaw. Reyn stumbled, catching her footing a moment later. It tried to capitalize on her brief moment of weakness, but Wynne distracted it by shooting a bolt of lightning at it. Shale came bounding up, flashing past us and heading towards Reyn and the general. The golem threw up a rocky fist, jabbing at the helmet-clad head of our enemy. Shale proceeded to pound the daylights out of the beast, until it was nothing but a sad little pile of mush. Reyn, as did the rest of us, looked positively shocked. We all looked at our rocky friend. She just shrugged nonchalantly, mimicking a swiping motion with her hands. I could not help but chuckle lowly; it was just too rich.

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Reyn shook herself out of her awed look. Now that one general was dead, we only had one more to go before we could take on the archdemon. We quickly vacated the market, heading towards the previously closed up Alienage. On the way there, we ran into a small platoon of Dalish archers, and a gaggle of Dwarven Legionnaires. We were able to coax them into coming with us; as hard as the market had been, who knows how many foes will be at the Alienage. The scene that greeted us was utter chaos. Smoke billowed up from houses, where sick elves were holed up. Terrified, screaming elves ran around, trying to escape the rapidly approaching wave of nightmares. Shianni and Soris ran up to us. Soris had a sword sheathed across his back, and Shianni possessed a finely-crafted bow. She told us that many Darkspawn were just outside the other gate, trying to break in. The fortifications would not hold much longer. Quickly, Reyn told Soris to get as many elves out of the Alienage as possible. Soris did as he was asked, while Shianni led us to the gate. Reyn directed several rows of Dalish archers on either side of the gate, standing high above on wooden platforms. They formed a small firing squad; one wave would shoot, then duck down while those behind them shot. It would be a continuous, effective assault. Shianni joined the left squad, while Leliana went to the right. Both women unstrung their bows and notched an arrow, preparing for the onslaught. She moved Wynne a little ways from the main group, instructing her to again shield up. A couple of dwarven warriors were placed in front of her as protection. The rest were placed in rows, slightly behind me, Reyn, Alistair, Shale and Raines. We made up the frontal assault. All there was to do now was wait, and hope to all that is holy that an ogre would not smash us flat, or debris from the gate paralyzing us. I crouched down into my hunter stance. Quite attractive, that stance. Drew many a lady, back in Antiva; quite a few men, too.

The wait did not last long. The gate let loose a long, low shuddering sound before it was blasted apart by the encroaching Darkspawn (but mainly the ogre). We managed not to get hit by flying chunks of wood, and met the wave head-on. The archers focused mainly on the ogre from the get-go, bombarding it with an assault of arrows. Reyn and Alistair headed straight for the last remaining general, while the rest of us did our best to keep the Darkspawn from actually entering the Alienage. I blocked a blow from a long, curved blade, countering with a jab of my own. Our faces got close, so close that I could smell the rancid breath emanating from the maw of my opponent. Raines has nothing on that Darkspawn…urgh. I used my other blade to stab at the exposed face; Darkspawn are not so smart. Predictably, he went down screaming and holding its dark face. I put an end to its nefarious ways rather swiftly. The archers were doing splendidly; Darkspawn were dropping left and right. Leliana was, of course, the one who racked up the most points. Most of the kill-shots were from her hand. The dwarfs were a big help as well; their solid bodies and massive weaponry marked them as formidable opponents, and great allies. My blades were now engaged with a Hurlock General; now those are more of a challenge. This particular one held a greatsword in its gloved hand. I dodged and jumped around, looking for a point of weakness; an advantage. This beast was far more trained though, as it did not give me much time to look. While we were locked in a battle to the death, I heard what sounded like footsteps and breathing; a hiss sounded through the air, like it was heading towards me…before I had time to even move, what sounded like lightning burst forth, hitting my would-be assailant. Why thank you, Wynne. Perhaps you do care for me. Another bolt shot like an arrow; I threw myself towards the ground, watching as the Hurlock got himself turned into a crispy piece of blackened metal. Well…maybe she does not think so fondly of me…I swear I saw a small smirk atwixt her lips when I shot a glance at her.

Meanwhile, the Wardens were having a hard time with the head general-in-charge. This general, unlike the Hurlock from the market, was an emissary. Meaning it could fry our asses if we were not careful. Now that the ogre had fallen, it was our main threat. Reyn charged the emissary, but a blast from one of its hands sent her sprawling head over heels. She hit the ground with a clash of metal. Alistair had already taken up the mantle before she had even struck the ground. With a roar fit for his newfound position, he attacked the Darkspawn with his own father's sword, landing a solid hit against the susceptible side. A growl of pain emitted from the mouth, before magic sizzled around the enraged form. The black hands shot out, magic spewing outwards from them and hitting Alistair in the chest. He was torn from his feet, flying several feet before smashing into a Darkspawn. The two entangled forms hit the ground; the blade, coincidentally, killing the hapless "victim" underneath. By this time Reyn had regained her footing, and when Alistair had been taken off his feet she had quickly used the advantage of the emissary's lack of attention to shoot forward, leaping the last couple of inches and descending upon the Darkspawn general like an angel falling from heaven. Starfang caught the surrounding flames against the brilliant blue steel, slicing through the enemy as if it was a stick of cheese. With a final moan the thing toppled over, Reyn standing victorious over the prone form. The rest of the Darkspawn tried to flee, but the remainder of the assault team was quickly put to rest by our Dalish archers and Leliana.

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The generals were now both dead, and all that lay before us was that blasted archdemon. Easier said than done, right? Shianni came bounding up to us after the Alienage was (mostly) safe. The woman was practically bursting with unrestrained energy. She had been a veritable nightmare with a bow; she had almost as many kills as Leliana did. I saw our bard give the red-haired elf a friendly pat on the back before making her way towards her lovely Warden, obviously making sure she was alright. Alistair was, very stiffly, getting to his feet with the help of Wynne. Raines and Shale were looking mighty pleased with themselves for their battle contributions. The rest of us were just happy to be alive. Shianni complimented me on my fighting abilities; her eyes seemed to burn through me. A feeling I have not felt before rose up inside me, welling up in my chest. Those eyes, so earnest…they unsettled me, set my sure feet on unstable ground. Before I could say anything, Reyn and Leliana had made their way to us. Shianni turned her attention to the Warden, heartfelt thanks flowing from her grateful tongue. You would think Reyn was the embodiment of the Maker, for all the worship that was being bestowed upon her. Which, I guess is an accurate account. No normal woman could accomplish what our dear Warden has. Reyn waved the comments off, using her infallible modesty as she was wont to do. She shook hands with the elf, telling her how good a shot she really was. The elf blushed under her scrutiny and praise, ducking her head in a way that seemed unlike herself. Alistair, now himself again, gave a short speech to all those involved, telling them what a good job was done. His people ate him up, looking adoringly at the soon to be crowned king. He really did have what it takes, despite his initial reluctance. I could see Reyn looking at him with a fond, yet sad, smile on her lips. She looked so proud of the man who had become her brother, despite not sharing the same blood. Blood is not always thicker than water, at least not in this case.

Shianni pulled me off to the side for a brief moment while we were in a state of respite. Haltingly, she asked me if I was to be heading towards the archdemon next. Of course I said yes; Reyn and the others needed me. We were a family, and family sticks together no matter how dysfunctional. Averting her eyes, she implored me to be careful, and skittered around the idea of possibly seeing me after the battle. I am used to having people stare at me with lust, and even longing…but her eyes, they spoke of an adoration that was foreign to me. Shianni was breathtaking, and I have seen plenty of women in my time. Her confidence and mannerisms, they were like a breath of fresh air. With time running out, and honesty shining in my eyes, I told her that I would love nothing more than to seek her out afterwards. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Shianni shot forward and kissed me gently on the mouth. I was in a state of utter shock, which does not happen often, and never regarding romance. Before I could say anything, Reyn put her hand on my shoulder. With knowing, sympathetic eyes, she explained that we had to leave now; our destiny lay before us. I granted the fiery elf one last smoldering look before my back turned and my companions and I set off towards Fort Drakon, where we hoped the dragon would land.

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We were quickly approaching the palace district, which would lead towards Fort Drakon. A loud roar reached our ears, vibrating the ground with the intensity. As one, everybody in the group looked skyward. The archdemon had finally made an appearance; the huge beast flew overhead, spouting huge gouts of flames. It was an impressive and fearsome sight, more so than it was when we first saw the archdemon in the bowels of the Deep Roads. It flew in lower, before climbing up higher. Leliana gasped beside me; I looked slightly to the right, and saw Riordan standing tall on top of a building. When the dragon flew underneath his position, the Grey Warden jumped from his perch and landed square on the massive red back. The man clung for dear life, holding on with every ounce of strength in his body. He reached behind him, blindly searching for his blade for a moment before it slid from its soft sheath, flashing in the glare of the flames. With a chant of defiance, Riordan plunged his blade into the side of the archdemon. The dragon roared with pain and anger, quickly pin-wheeling to the side. The sharp turn dislodged Riordan from his precarious position; desperately, he tried to find any traction, but he was not able to find a purchase. His blade dug through scales and sinew, before Riordan finally fell. We watched in horror as the Grey Warden free-falled through the skin before disappearing from view. The man was obviously dead. The dragon spun out of control, making an emergency landing on the very top of Fort Drakon. How fitting, for the archdemon to meet its ultimate fate on the highest point of a building that has performed such evil atrocities. The wing that had been ripped open by Riordan's sword had been fatally crippled; the dragon had no escape now.

I looked towards Reyn, knowing she would be sad by Riordan's death. After all, they were kin by the tainted blood that flowed through their veins. Alistair himself had a look of grief on his face; Wynne was soothing him gently. But Reyn's reaction was far more unexpected. Her head was turned towards where Riordan had fallen to his death, staring with such fathomless grief, such sadness swirling in her eyes. You could see her heart breaking by looking into them; her hands were white around her sword. The woman's body shook slightly, wracked with sobs she chose not to disclose to us. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her normally straight shoulders were hunched over as if in defeat. The world had literally split apart right in front of us. Leliana looked to her lover in worry, touching the smooth armor covering the shoulder with a hesitant hand. The touch seemed to spur Reyn into action. Her shaking subsided and her posture snapped back into place, that of a born leader. Reyn reciprocated the brief touch with one of her own, tenderly squeezing the hand before letting go. Blue eyes seemed to crystallize and harden with determination before our own. Her sword rose up in one final salute of the man she had grown to respect, and then we continued further towards the palace district of Denerim.

Upon passing the gates to the palace, we ventured upon a small covenant of knights from Redcliffe, intermixed with dwarves and mages. The unofficial leader of the group took quick strides towards us, his groomed beard jutting out from under his silver helm. His shield bore the crest of Arl Eamon and the crown. The knight introduced himself as Ser Isaac, a senior warrior from the Redcliffe ranks. His steady blue eyes were reassuring, and his deep voice was calm and confident. He told us of the situation here; there was quite a few Darkspawn, and ogres roamed up the stairs. Beyond this small, peaceful section secluded well away from prying eyes and the noxious smell of our enemies, we would have to contend with a variety of foes, all before reaching Fort Drakon. Reyn asked the soldiers around us if they were prepared for the assault; all heads nodded the affirmative. A shout behind us stopped our forward march into the awaiting ranks of Darkspawn. Ser Cauthrien, Ser Perth, and a good sized force of allies came running towards us. Cauthrien shared a thin smile with Reyn; though no animosity existed between them any longer, this was not really a moment of reunion. Ser Perth shook hands with us all, a gentlemen in armor to be sure. Everybody was relieved to see these additional soldiers; we were now a force to be reckoned with. Cauthrien quickly told us of the events back at Denerim's gates. Sten and Oghren had done an admirable job, keeping the Darkspawn at bay. The Qunari and dwarf duo were proving to be more than efficient, and the men under their care were impressed by them. A fond smile crossed Reyn's face. She reset her armor to her liking, and swung Starfang around in an arc. As a cohesive unit we moved into the sight range of our bestial foes.

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Arrows were promptly aimed at us; shields and quickness of foot saved us from the stinging blows. Everything was a blur, then: swords and arrows zoomed overhead, while screams and growls surrounded us all like a bubble. I knew naught what my companions were doing, or if indeed they were okay. All I knew was the strain of my muscles as I flitted in and out of the battle participants, shredding up anything that came in my direction that looked similar to the killing machines that have plagued us for a year now. Tainted blood smeared my clothing, staining my face with the darkness and warmth of the liquid. I ignored it, keeping up my assault on my enemies, and those of my friends. I ducked underneath a wicked looking blade that I would guess used to be silver, but was so worn by use and tainted by its owner that it was nothing like the original product, and popped up on my feet, twisting my body around and performing a slash to the gut, followed by slamming the sharp tip upwards into the open jaw. I kicked the dead body to the side, moving on. Minutes seemed to drag out; time had slowed to a crawl. Afterwards, when time had gotten back to normal, all of the Darkspawn lay dead at our feet. There were casualties and losses on our side as well, but not even close to that of the Darkspawn. I looked to the left and saw Leliana wipe a bloodstain off of her cheek, wrinkling her nose in distaste. The rest of my companions were okay, as well. Ser Perth, Ser Isaac, they were all accounted for…but…where was Reyn? My query was soon answered; Reyn stood a little ways off, helmet upturned at her feet. Her shield was hanging loosely on her arm, as was her sword in the other hand. I could tell she was crying, by her shoulders, the strongest thing this world has ever seen, move up and down. Looking towards her helmet, I could see what looked to be a body underneath her. Terror shot through me, as well as confusion. Leliana was fine, our tight-knit group was okay…so who was the person lying so still underneath our Savior? As I tentatively neared her position, the answer became painfully apparent. Ser Cauthrien lay on her back below Reyn, a sword embedded in her chest. Her brown eyes stared forward, dark and unseeing. Her famous sword lay beside her, clutched loosely in her gauntlet covered hands. Reyn was devastated. Leliana moved passed me hurriedly, grabbing Reyn and pulling her into her arms. In-between choking sobs and harsh wheezes, the Warden told us that Ser Cauthrien had died saving Reyn from a Hurlock who had snuck up on her while she was enthralled in the heat of battle. If Cauthrien had not jumped in front of the blade, startling the warrior from her calling…she would have been killed, instead. The rest of our allies came up and surrounded us all, forming a grieving circle. Everybody bowed their heads, sharing in the pain and sense of loss.

After a short time, Reyn bent down. She wrapped Cauthrien's hand more securely around her weapon and placed the blade on the ruined chest, careful to miss the blade that had impaled her. She bestowed a gentle kiss to a pale cheek, standing slowly and as if a thousand weights were upon her shoulders. She had aged ten years before us. Starfang snapped into a last salute to the knight who had dreamed since she was a little babe of wielding a sword and adding 'ser' to her name. The honorable woman had almost been turned astray by her former mentor, but in the end, her redemption was finally fulfilled by saving the very woman who would be Ferelden's hero, and who had meant the world to her as children. Reyn's head rose up; her eyes radiated anger and hatred. The fire burning within burned brighter and hotter than any the archdemon could conjure. She slammed the helm back on her head, leaving it open so she could see better. She adjusted her shield and sword, standing tall and vengeful. Without even looking back to see if she was being followed, Reyn headed towards Fort Drakon, intent on making the reason for all this death disappear. The rest of us followed in her suit, Leliana stepping out and trying valiantly to keep up with her incensed Warden. Her ice blue eyes were full to the brim with concern and she tried to dissuade Reyn from doing any hasty decisions, but for once Reyn did not heed her counsel. Ser Cauthrien's death had been one loss to many for the usually loving, caring warrior and she was pushed too far. Woe to any Darkspawn we might run into, and the archdemon…it has no chance, not when I have seen the extent of Reyn's fighting prowess and the heat of her fury. We all rounded the bend, coming upon the outskirts of Fort Drakon. Darkspawn archers shot missiles at us while several emissaries tried to fry us. Senior Enchanter Dominic helped Wynne construct shields around us as we moved around the hasty built barriers, leaping over them and taking out all the archers. More enemies poured down the stairs, and we still had those emissaries to contend with. Wouldn't you know it; a Drake of mature age popped out as well, immediately latching on to Shale.

Shale popped the Drake in the snout, causing the mini dragon to let out an ear-splattering wail. Raines rushed to our golem's aid, attaching his strong jaws around the scaly neck. Reyn had charged past the drake, making a beeline for one of the magic-using Darkspawn. It did not take long for Starfang to mow it down. Leliana's daggers made quick work of the ones trying to sneak up on our Warden leader. Alistair was fighting against the other one while Reyn vaulted the stairs, heading towards the one furthest back. However, this one was not as stupid as the others; it had set a trap, one that could not be seen by the eye. As Reyn's foot came down, she became paralyzed by the trap. Unable to move, she was easy prey for the spawn encroaching on her position. I ran forward, taking the stairs three steps at a time. The knights of Redcliffe and the rest of our allies could take care of the stragglers; Reyn needed immediate attention. Leliana was struggling to reach her in time, but she too was surrounded by the spawn. I watched as the emissary laughed, talking darkly in foreign tongue. The air around its hands turned a blackish-purple; definitely not good magic, not by a long shot. It crackled like electricity, making the air hiss and sizzle. It threw its arms back as far as it could go before letting the ball fly from its perch and zoom straight for the bound Warden. Leliana screamed and my mouth opened to say something, but it was too late. The ball struck Reyn dead center in her chest, ripping her from her paralysis and flinging her all the way down past the steps. Her body collided with the bottom steps. Rolling all the way down until finally she came to a stop against the ground. Her body lay unmoving, a trickle of blood visible at the corner of her mouth, even from my position. The bard let loose a sound of inhuman proportions, rife with unbridled fury and pain. Soon all the spawn around her were dead, and she had flung herself against the emissary. The tainted mage had no protection from the ball of fiery-haired vengeance, and quickly succumbed to her daggers. However, Leliana did not stop there. She kept stabbing the dead corpse long after it had passed, tears falling heavily down her pale cheeks. I wrapped my arms around her thin waist, feeling her struggle against my hold. I drew her close, trying to comfort the woman.

Alistair yelled at us, telling us to get down there. The former templar stood beside Reyn's body, where Wynne and several members of the circle were muttering spells of healing, forcing life and awareness back into the broken body. I helped Leliana traverse the steps and make it to her lover's side. She knelt beside her, blue eyes wide with longing and hope. A trembling hand slowly moved over to the limp tanned one, grasping it gently and playing with the fingers. The normally carefree bard's lips wobbled, tears still falling. Reyn's nose was scrunched up a bit, and her eyes rolled beneath her eyelids. Sweat beaded her brow as her chest rose erratically. Alistair tersely explained that Reyn's heart had actually stopped beating in the split second in took for Wynne to transport over to her. If the elder mage had been even a second too slow, she would not be alive right now. A tiny sob escaped from Leliana; she buried her face in the hand that was not holding her fallen soulmates. I looked to Wynne, taking in her frazzled appearance and the intense concentration swirling in her wizened eyes. If anybody could help Cousland, it was her. Sure hands traveled the firm body underneath, pushing copious amounts of healing magic into the battered body. Bruises and cuts disappeared before my gaze. But, Reyn still would not open her eyes. Leliana whispered brokenly, calling for her heart to be returned to her. As if on cue, Reyn twitched her hand, blue eyes fluttering open to look around blearily. When she took in all the concerned faces around her, especially the tears running down her love's face, awareness flooded back to her senses. She cupped Leliana's face, holding the red-head as she cried against her chest. Soft assurances and devotions of love soothed the bard as she snuggled closer to her Warden. I glimpsed at Reyn's eyes; the crippling sadness was back as she had ahold of Leliana. The look on her face as she tenderly held her bard in her rapidly gaining strength arms…it again gave me pause. What is with all these sad, defeated looks? The woman acts as if she is going to di-oh…oh no…it hit me then, as strong as the bolt that hurt Reyn. It all made sense now…the looks, Alistair and Reyn's behavior before we set off to Denerim, why Riordan's death hit the two Wardens much harder than it should have…

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Riordan had needed to talk with them, the night before we marched on Denerim. It was supposed to be confidential, top secret Grey Warden stuff. What if that was what Riordan had to tell them? We all know that only a Grey Warden can slay an archdemon and the Old God be gone for good. But nobody really stopped and thought about what happens to the Warden who kills the beast. I remembered tales of the old heroes, who killed the demon before our time. They all made a name for themselves in the history scrolls, but not a single one of them had lived to bask in the glory they had created. Maker, I cannot believe I had not thought of this before! Reyn…Reyn knew she was going to die as soon as she used her sword to kill the beast. She would never let Alistair do it; he was the future king, far too important to let die. Not only that, but she truly cared for the man and would never let him take the hit when she could. I stumbled a bit as the shock and grief seared through me at the revelation. We all knew there was a chance one of us would not make it out of this alive, but to find out it was Reyn, performing the ultimate sacrifice…it was a hard thing to bear. Reyn took stock of my expression, understanding flashing across her face. She stared intently at me, letting a sad smile flitter on her lips, shaking her head while her gaze moved to rest on Leliana. I understood her loud and clear; do not tell Leliana or the others about what was going to happen. As bad as this scare affected Leli, I did not even want to think of what would happen when she saw that her warrior was dead, this time for good. Wynne, looking like she really did not want to but necessity forced her hand, ambled over to the couple, asking if Reyn was feeling okay after that fall. Reyn nodded the affirmative, stretching her muscles with a satisfying pop. She gave Leliana one last lingering kiss on her forehead before assembling her weapons, checking to make sure everything was in order. We gathered in a line, all of us original companions minus Sten and Oghren. I briefly wished the stoic Qunari and the irrepressible dwarf were here, but they had their job in this whole debacle, and we had ours. Reyn lead us to the gates leading into the fort, where we would clear out the last dredges of Darkspawn hiding before we came face to face with the Darkspawn.

I saw Leliana tense once we were fully submerged in the fort; this was the place Reyn had been held for a short time, and tortured a bit while incarcerated. She was openly uncomfortable in the place, and I saw her suppress shivers several times. All of us had our weapons at the ready, prepared for anything that may pop out at us unseen. Reyn herself did not look overly bothered in the place, but then again the noblewoman had bigger things on her mind, such as her upcoming demise. I took in my surroundings, taking in the various instruments of torture. Most were empty, but a few held prisoners. Unfortunately, none were alive. If there had been any, the Darkspawn had killed them. We walked up and down various corridors, opening them to find them empty but for the bodies of both the spawn and the guards of the fort. As we descended into an open space, I stopped, motioning for the others to halt. I could hear what sounded like rustling and growls, coming from just a little to our left. I slowly edged forward, drawing a dagger without a sound. My back pressed to the wall, I slithered forward. Chancing a glance, I saw several Darkspawn waiting around. They were conversing in monosyllabic sounds, looking as close to being bored as they could. Leliana had joined me, having heard the sounds around the same time I did. She drew her bow and set an arrow up against the bowstring. Reyn seemed content to let us lead the way for now; I gave a small signal and the bard and I snapped into action. I shot out and attacked a Genlock, killing it within a second. An arrow whizzed past, striking another Genlock in the throat. As it slowly sank to the ground, Wynne took out the final one with an icy attack. I cleaned my blades of any tainted blood, but I did not re-sheathe them. If these were here, there will definitely be more. We moved on, encountering a band of shades before long. The wraiths came at us, intent on ending our crusade. Alistair and Reyn took point this time, crashing into the black demons by using armored shoulders and metal shields. I darted forward, burying the point of my dagger into the head of the shade nearest to me, moving on to help Wynne. Shale grabbed a forgotten mace from the ground, smashing into a Greater Shade. It disappeared into black smoke, dispersing when Raines ran through it and helped his owner take down the final enemy. As I was straightening up I tensed, feeling the air particles around me change. I recognized the presence of magic from traveling with Wynne and Morrigan. I shouted for everybody to duck, watching them all throw themselves to the floor. As soon as I hit the ground, a vicious blast of sickly green light flew by right where I had been standing. It struck the wall opposite from us, leaving a large charred mark behind as evidence. I scrambled to my feet, turning around and brandishing my dual weapons. Looking straight at me, an evil grin spread across its grotesque features, was a Genlock Conjurer. It warmed up its hands, readying to throw another green ball of death at us. Throwing caution to the wind, I rushed forward to end it before it could fulfill its wish. The conjurer waited until I was almost upon it, flinging the light at my chest. Using all my skill learned as an Antivan Crow, I dodged the blast with nothing to hinder me except the searing pain that grazed my arm. Ignoring the wound, I launched myself at the Genlock, dragging my dagger across its throat and then stabbing it in the stomach. I made doubly sure the dangerous enemy was dead before sinking to the ground. My arm literally felt like it was on fire; I could not even lift it without agony blazing a trail across my nerve endings.

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Reyn was the first by my side. She took one good look at my appendage and all color evaporated from her face. Voice hoarse and urgent, she yelled for Wynne to come immediately. Slightly worried now, I looked down at my arm. I wished I hadn't. The cloth around my limb was almost completely burned away; only thin strips were left hanging. The lightly tanned skin was an angry red color, with actual black splotches in several areas. It was one of the worst burns I had ever seen, and I have seen plenty. Wynne hastened to my side, paling at the sight and taking in a harsh breath. Snapping into senior mage mode, she knelt down, taking the charred flesh between soft fingers. Even so, I hissed at the pain that engulfed me. I was unable to speak for a full minute. Wynne grabbed a bottle of lyrium from her robes, drinking it all in a large gulp. White light enveloped her hands before she placed them on my injured arm. Leliana's face was pinched tight, and Alistair looked on the verge of being sick. Before he could, we were surprised by the sound of guttural laughter; the noises that always signal danger in the form of Darkspawn. I groaned, unable to help in any way. Wynne could not aid our friends either. Reyn barked orders at Alistair and Raines, telling them to guard us both while Wynne worked on me. Hurlocks, Genlocks and even a Hurlock Alpha shot out of nowhere trying to accost us. I tried to watch the skirmish, but the pain from the healing made it almost impossible. It was hard to see around Alistair, too. Thankfully, the team did not take long to clear the room. Reyn made her way back to my side, blood sprinkling her proud jaw and forehead. Wynne finally removed her hands, and I took in the new pink skin where the wound had been. I thanked the mage, cracking a joke about how magical her hands were. She rolled her eyes but she smiled to take any sting out. Leliana wiped the little blood on the Warden's face, and we left the room filled with fresh bodies.

Several more rooms were visited, some with more Darkspawn. There was even a point where assassins tried to ambush us. They would have too, if Shale had not swung the door open by smashing a fist into it, throwing the would-be killer backwards. We also got a surprise in the form of Sandal, who stocked us up on potions and goods. The boy had killed an entire room of baddies himself. Remind me to never piss that guy off. Farewells were said to the enchanter, with Reyn planting a kiss on his cheek. She had always had a soft spot for the boy. Before too long, we had come to the last room before we would finally face the demon we had been chasing for the past year. We moved soundlessly, but as we passed tow openings, two ogres popped out, eager to kill us right here and now before we could get to their master. An emissary popped out right after, lobbing dark pools of magic at us while we fought against the ogres. Leliana took off after the magic-wielding annoyance, engaging it in a one-on-one battle. Our fearless leader threw herself headlong at one of the ogres, giving it a run for its money. The last thing it ever saw was a warrior with flaming hair clad in golden armor, sword catching the dim lighting before it sank into the hard skin. The other ogre fell fast after that, and Leliana had dealt with the emissary. Let us just say that if it had lived, it would have been on the receiving end of a splitting headache. Everyone assembled together before the door leading out onto the rooftop, where the archdemon awaited us. Faces were stoic and grim, while fingers unconsciously tightened around hilts. Alistair eyed Reyn, a deep-lying emotion burning behind his eyes as the golden amber took in her body as if for the last time. She had been on this journey with him from the very beginning, before any of us. Leliana also looked to her lover, but her emotion was concerned with her maybe getting hurt; she had no idea of the heartbreak that would soon rock her very world from its hinges. I just prayed that it did not kill her as well. I saw our leader take in one last steadying breath, eyes closing for a brief spell as if savoring every smell before the act was taken from her forever. I remember feeling a burning behind my eyes, and struggling not to let any tears escape. I was never one for mushy feelings, or crying, but Reyn had become more than just a leader or even a mere friend. No, she was much more than that. I found myself wishing that I could stop the archdemon with my bare hands; anything to keep Reyn alive for longer. But, I knew that it was not to be. Glacial blue eyes opened, and Reyn dutifully moved forward, the rest of us shadowing her. The door opened; we had caught up to our destiny.

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Smoke blinded us as soon as went ran out onto the rooftop. I coughed, wiping the streaming tears from my eyes. As it cleared, I saw the sight I had been dreading for months; the archdemon. The massive dragon stood tall and menacing, the red scales glowing a lava-red against the backdrop of the fires burning in the background. Smoke curled around its flared nostrils, and the claws on the beast were long, curved and obsidian black. One of the wings was dangling limply from its side, rivulets of blood trickling down. The dragon was surrounded by soldiers, all desperately trying to subdue the demon. It did not go well. The thick red tail came thundering down, sending men flying in all directions. Claws scythed through the air, killing even more. One man tried crawling away, reaching out to us with a hand. Desperation was written all over his face, and he left a trail of blood behind his broken body. Before any of us could go to his rescue, a sharpened claw bore down on the man, impaling him. The dragon flipped upwards, sending the body cascading into the gaping maw covered in sharp little teeth. After devouring the hapless man, the archdemon turned his gaze towards the last remaining men. They tried to flee, but flames soon licked them up, leaving charred bits behind. Reyn stared at the dragon in a fury, Starfang flashing to life in her hand. She roared at the archdemon, eager to send it back to the Fade. Switching into super leader mode, she barked orders at the rest of us. Shale and I ran to the ballistae set up in strategic points; we picked the closest one. Leliana reluctantly joined us at the behest of her lover, whipping out her trusty bow and arrow combination and assuming the traditional position of an archer. Alistair, Raines and Reyn would attack the archdemon from below; they were in the most danger. Wynne stood far back away from the dragon, chanting to herself until a shield was erected around her vulnerable frame. I grabbed an arrow from the holder beside the ballistae, grunting as I attempted the push the thin wood into place. The exertion caused sweat to bead across my brow, and my muscles were pulled taunt. The wood finally clicked into place; I gestured for Shale to push it into position. Without any snide comments or remarks, she did as I asked, the weapon moving easily under her powerful hands. Once it was set in place, I took stock of where the dragon was at. I carefully moved the ballista a tad bit to the right, ahhing when it was perfectly aligned. When it was ready, I let the missile loose. The sharpened tip speared outwards, striking the oversized lizard in the side. At the same time, Leli let loose a stinging arrow of her own. It flew true, hitting the fleshy underbelly. A scream of pain erupted from the red maw, Wynne increasing the agitation by introducing it to our good friend, lightning. The dragon meandered around, thrashing in anger. The others did their best to avoid the thick legs, nearly getting crushed several times. I heard Leliana's sharp intake of air when Reyn narrowly avoided the swinging tail. It came so close that the air actually moved the strands of her red hair.

Unfortunately, Alistair was not quite as fortunate. As the tail was coming back around, it clipped him hard in the side. Although Maric's armor was strong, it was not strong enough to keep the man from flying through the air and crashing to the ground in an undignified heap. Reyn rushed forward and attempted to turn the dragon's attention away from the future king and rivet it on her. It worked; those dark eyes were locked onto her. While the two mortal enemies circled each other, Shale, Leli and I focused on throwing missiles at the archdemon. Wynne moved to stand in front of Alistair, protecting him as best she could with her own shield. As I was in the midst of another firing, I glanced to the side and saw a small platoon of Darkspawn converging on our position. I yelled at Leliana to take care of them; she easily switched her focus and shot off three arrows in quick succession. Each arrow found its intended mark. Shale and I continued aiding Reyn. You could tell the archdemon was losing steam, and fast. The wings sagged in exhaustion, and even the smoke floating around its head seemed to lose strength. Reyn flipped her sword high, moving at a fast speed like she was going to finally end the beast. However, it used its one good wing to knock her off her feet. Then, to my dismay, I watched the dragon slam the thick tail where she lay. She rolled out of the way, sliding to her feet before dodging a burst of flame. This time though, the dragon managed to land a hit across her cheek. A long, deep cut opened her cheek up. Reyn did not take the time to sit and wait; she followed through, assaulting the demon with all her might. Leliana rejoined us, and as one, all of us converged onto one point: aiming straight at the dragon. With a combined shout, all the missiles and attacks flew true, striking the dragon. With a mighty wail, the archdemon pitched onto its side, lying wounded on the uncaring stone.

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Alistair had regained his equilibrium, getting to his feet. Shale, Leliana and I rushed down to our companions, staring at one another in shock. It was almost over; just one final blow was needed before this nightmare ended. I turned to Reyn, taking in the woman who had changed my life so solidly over the past year. She showed me that I had the power to choose what to become; that I could be more than a mere assassin. The Warden gave me my life back, and my choice. Looking around at us all, Reyn thanked us for journeying by her side to save Ferelden. We were family to her, and far more than simple companions. Wynne…Shale…Raines…myself…She hugged us each in turn, blue eyes serene in the knowledge that her time was soon up. Cousland made us promise to tell Sten and Oghren the same thing, and to relay how much they meant to her. How sorry she was, to leave. Now it was Alistair's turn. The man was freely crying, amber eyes dark with sorrow. Reyn pulled him into a fierce embrace, citing that he was every bit her brother, just as Fergus was. She would miss the man dearly, and knew he would be one of the best kings Ferelden had ever seen. Such faith, even in her final hour…My eyes burned, warmth building quickly. Reyn finally let go of Alistair, turning at last to her love. Leliana just stood still, blue eyes boring into the Warden. Her mouth moved up and down silently, head shaking at intervals. The rest of us had caught on quickly, realizing her words for what they were; a goodbye. However, Leliana was absolutely blindsided, and could not comprehend that her life was crumbling before her shaky eyes. Reyn moved slowly forward, until she stood right in front of her beloved bard. A hand reached hesitantly forward, only for Leliana to move backwards. Her head shook in denial, begging Reyn to tell her this was all a lie, a joke. Reyn's expression told Leliana what words failed to. Sobbing uncontrollably, she fell forward into the soft embrace of the warrior, holding each other for the last time. I watched one solitary tear flitter down the strong, tanned face before disappearing down the armor. She confessed her devotion and love to Leliana, praising her for all the time they spent and cherishing it completely. Not a dry eye was to be had in our group. But, fate decided to intervene. The dragon roared, acting as if it was struggling to get up. Blue eyes stared hard at the beast, before meeting Leli's. Determined irises hardened before clashing their lips together one final time, pouring everything into that one final kiss. Then, Reyn Cousland turned her back on us and ran head-long to her legacy. Starfang flashed to her hand, shining a fiery blue. With the last war cry she would ever utter, she leapt high into the sky, bearing down onto the dragon.

As the blade sank down into the flesh, a bright golden light burst forth and surrounded the tall warrior. I stared incredulously at the rest, in awe of the sight. Even Leliana's sobs and screams had quieted at the sight. Reyn stood atop the dragon's body, muscles visible in her arms as she was almost glued to the rusty scales below. Her face jerked as if a powerful current was coursing through her. The light kept getting increasingly brighter, until it almost hurt to see. The Warden turned her head, tendons straining in her neck. Her blue eyes were remarkably light, and a smile caressed her tan skin. She was never more beautiful…then, everything exploded.

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As I crashed to my back, all I remember is that intense light overshadowing all, screams and shouts echoing in the background. But none rang out louder and with more pain than Leliana's. I slowly sat up, gathering myself shakily. The others did the same as I. My eyes took in the fallen archdemon off to the side. It was so surreal…we had done it. Reyn had done it. Movement caught my eye; Leliana was stumbling to a dark lump several feet from the dead archdemon. Heart in my throat, I gave chase. As I slowed down when I neared the fallen form, I witnessed Leliana dropping to her knees, tears running down the pale face. It was a scene of heartbreak and sorrow, and loss. We formed a circle around the women, staring down at our leader who had taught each and every one of us what it meant to be a hero…a leader….a good human being. Rain poured from the heavens, drowning the flames. Ferelden itself was mourning the loss of its daughter.

Everything was a blur afterwards. There was great rejoicing, and a time of mourning as well. The funeral was held after the coronation of the king. Alistair spoke at the funeral, granting Howe's land and Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens as a base. He also elected Shianni to be the ambassador from the alienage. All the brave soldiers who gave their lives in the name of Ferelden were properly respected, none more than Reyn herself. We were all moved by her heroism and actions. Her brother Fergus was in attendance; he had survived. He was to erect a tombstone in Highever dedicated to his dead sister, although her actual body would travel to Weisshaupt to join the other fallen heroes. Leliana did not stay long; she disappeared the day after the funeral. Sten has elected to travel soon to his homeland, and Oghren will leave to Orzammar in three. Wynne will travel with Shale to try and find a cure for her Golem problem. Raines was given to Alistair; he would care for the hound as well as his former master. As for me…well, King Alistair offered to give me a position as his personal bodyguard. I had thought about traveling, but..maybe being a bodyguard would be more suited to my skills. And…I would be close to Shianni… A small smile, the first in three days, overwhelms my face. Maybe this is my calling. I look out the window, the sun shining through like a show of faith. As I stare, I could swear I see Reyn staring down with her blue eyes, smiling at the gift she gave us all. The pain will eventually fade, and restoration will commence. It will be hard, but things will get better. She made sure of that. Well, this is it my friends. It has been a long, harrowing ride, eh? But, as in all stories, it must have an end. Although my journals will cease, my life has only just begun. Farewell, my friends. Live long…and prosper.

Your favorite (ex) assassin,

Zevran, the soon-to-be taken elf X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_ X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_ X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_ X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

**Epilogue**

Zevran did become King Alistair's bodyguard; his most trusted one, as it were. He saved the king several times in the course of their partnership; three years after the final battle, an assassination was attempted on the popular king by a band of people not content with the elves' new elevated position in Ferelden politics. They would have succeeded, had Zevran not used all of his skills learned from being an Antivan Crow and stopping them before blood could be spilled…well, royal blood anyway. The elf and Shianni did meet up after the battle, discovering just how compatible they truly were. After a while seeing each other, Zevran finally asked for her hand in marriage. The two married by Lake Calenhad, with King Alistair standing in attendance as the best man. The two very much in love elves had two fine children; a beautiful red-haired daughter named Rheyna, after the Warden who had sacrificed her life so that they could live, and a strapping son named Elijah. Although his life was perfect, he never did forget about the woman who made it all possible. Every year on the anniversary of her death, Zevran would travel to her old home in Highever and visit her gravesite. He knew her body was not actually there, but in his heart he knew that she was more a part of this place than the Grey Warden base she had never seen. The elf would actually swear that he felt the dead warrior's presence on his visits. She never materialized like that day when he saw her in the clouds, but he knew she was with him. The elf had been tamed; no longer the careless assassin, he had something much more to live for, and he did for many years.

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